Dictator
by Lucy Wiggin
Summary: This is my attempt to break (almost) free from the Superman myth and draw a picture of Clark and Chloe's future, based on Smallville alone. It's a future fic where Clark decides to take world domination. Chloe, now a reporter at the planet, secretly oppos
1. Anniversary

Author's note:

**Spoilers:** Consider yourself warned about everything till the end of the fourth season.

Revised yet again, simply because the first version wasn't good enough

**The story is going on hiatus till I finish all of my exams and do some research, because it kind of taken over my life…**

**Thanks:** My beta readers, **_Last Scorpion_** and **_The Die Hard_**, all the kind reviewers, and Tom Paine.

* * *

_"The key point, I believe, to the understanding of Clark Kent's youth, is his meeting with Lex Luthor. Clark was fifteen, Lex was twenty-one. He was, as far as I can tell, Clark's first rescue. Lex hit Clark at 60 mph, yet Clark was not hurt. He ripped off the roof of Lex's Porsche and pulled him out._

_That day began a chain of events that marked him as Smallville's self-appointed hero, and ultimately made him take the identity of Superman."_

**Chloe Sullivan, "Smallville – Clark Kent's early years" unpublished notes.**

It was time for her monthly pamphlet again. Tom Paine's pamphlets inspired a revolution. Chloe's failed to do so, even after nine and a half years of publication. Of course, Tom Paine didn't have to compete with cable, TV in general, the internet... People probably rebelled against the British Empire because they were bored out of their minds.

"The Superman decade document," she told the computer, releasing a small, frustrated sigh.

"_**I believe that liberty is the only genuinely valuable thing that men have invented, at least in the field of government, in a thousand years. I believe that it is better to be free than to be not free, even when the former is dangerous and the latter safe. " **_

_**H. L. Mencken, "Why Liberty?" January 30, 1927 **_

_"It's been a decade since we gave up our liberty for safety, and we have done so all too easily. Most people, when asked, claimed it was absolutely necessary – we were one the verge of a third world war. People say the world was lucky enough to have Superman agreeing to become its "Hegemon", which is another word for an enlightened tyrant…"_

Chloe began to type on her old keyboard. Keyboards were terribly out of fashion, of course, but she preferred them to voice dictating. She loved the feeling of her thoughts taking shape through her fingertips. Besides, saying what she was about to write, while not illegal (who needed to outlaw freedom of speech when the media did such an admirable job of censoring itself? The Big Brother would have been proud) could definitely be hazardous to one's job, or even health.

"Chloe," Trent, her assistant, stuck his head through the door "Deadline in two hours; Mr. Dawkins is going insane."

Chloe startled. "Sorry, Trent, tell him it'll be ready in an hour," she said, trying to regain her composure. The Decade file was still on screen.

Trent grinned at her. "Don't look so scared. That's just another Deadline."

She tried to smile back "Well, I guess George's infamous rage is starting to get to me. You know, all those talks about 'never being able to find a job in the journalism world again' unless he gets his article yesterday."

Trent snorted. "That would be the day. So, what should I tell him?"

"Tell him that if he doesn't want it to be complete and utter crap, he should wait another hour."

"Ok," said Trent. "In the mean time, should I get you anything? Coffee, some cookies? I can run to the coffee shop and back in no time," he added eagerly.

Chloe smiled. Underneath her desk, her fingers were clenched together to the point where the knuckles went white. "That would be nice."

Trent nodded at her, gave her a last, adoring look, and closed the door.

Chloe release her breath. She certainly hoped Trent didn't see what was on screen. Working on an article for _The Crisis_ in the office was definitely living on the edge.

"Close current file," she told the computer. "Open latest Health Care file."

On the back of her brain, Chloe wondered what Trent would have done if he saw the file. He was a nice enough guy, and she was flattered by his obvious crush on her, but he could easily be one of those who believed Superman's domination was the best thing to ever happen to the world. Or worse – that Superman is Jesus Christ reborn, another reincarnation of Buddha, Moses who came back to set the Jews free. (Although why he would do that when they already had a state, Chloe had no idea).

Every religion had its way of working Clark into their theology, which turned out to be a major advantage in his quest to unite the world under his rule. How could one rebel against a Messiah? A God? Preachers' attempts to use Superman as a proof of God's existence (_their_ God, of course) backfired at them.

Fifty-eight minutes later, her article was ready, and she e-mailed it to George with satisfaction.

* * *

_"Clark had accepted his loss on the class presidency elections with grace. He even came to Paul Chan's victory party. And, what was even more important to me, he forgave me for my support of Paul in my Torch's editorial. Edison, in his book "Better Than Human" (2017) dedicates three chapters to tell the readers the story of those elections. He claims that "As the young hero saw Chan's many failures, he realized that mere humans weren't fit for the hard work of ruling." _

_Who would have thought that Paul's unsuccessful attempts to change Smallville High's dress code would have such an influence on the world's fate?_

_Edison, like other scholars,_ _makes the grave mistake of thinking of Clark as a naturally born hero, ready to save the world from childhood. The truth to be told, Clark has tried to run away from his fate, figuratively and literally, more than once"._

**Chloe Sullivan, "Smallville – Clark Kent's early years" unpublished notes.**

"Sullivan!" George yelled from across the news room. Chloe stopped, bag on shoulder and car keys at hand, and looked at him. George looked as if he were about to combust with joy.

"Sullivan!" George repeated "Come over here! You are not going to believe this!"

Half-walking, half-running, Chloe came to stand near George. So what if she was on her way home? It's not like she had much to do there.

"What is it?" she asked, breathless.

"You," announced George, with the world's biggest grin on his lips," are about to interview Superman," he said. Chloe didn't think one could look as smug as George looked at that moment. Satisfaction was practically dripping from him.

Oh, no, she thought. I'm not interviewing Clark. I'm not getting anywhere near him.

"Superman doesn't give interviews," she pointed out to George. Clark held press conferences every month or so, and gave a mandatory speech every year, but other than that, he let his subordinates do the PR.

George waved his hand in dismissal. "He does now. His assistant called an hour ago and asked to schedule an interview – on the condition that you'd be the one to interview him. "

"Must be a prank," said Chloe desperately. She felt the need to grab her bag and escape the _Planet_ for good, but remained in place instead, hoping to convince George this was a bad idea. She knew why Clark wanted to see her again, and she wasn't in the mood for "I told you so" speech. He wanted her to admit her mistake. He didn't get it that she never doubted his ability to run the world successfully – with lots of help, of course – but his right to do so. _No man is good enough to govern another man without that other's consent. _Would Lincoln have included Superman in that statement as well? Chloe thought he would have, and so did she.

"No prank," George said. "We confirmed it. Kent wants you to interview him."

"It won't be an impartial interview," she said quickly. "I knew him in high school, we worked together at the school newspaper. We went to Met U together."

"Exactly!" cried George with excitement "I want the personal angle. How is he like, as a person? What does he wear besides black? What are his favorite cereals? Besides," he added, noticing her look of dismay, "it's not like we have a choice. He asked for you, and I doubt he'd agree to do the interview with anybody else. This is an opportunity of a lifetime, Chloe. Don't let some bad high school memories stand in your way."

"Oh, it's not that they're bad…not all of them, anyway, I mean…" she paused, unwilling to elaborate on the subject. She wondered what George would have said if he knew what kind of memories, exactly, she did have from Clark. He would have insisted on an exclusive.

"What if I refuse?" she asked, although she already knew the answer.

"Chloe," George's voice softened. "You know you'd be sacked. Not by me – you're an excellent reporter, with or without the Superman interview, but the stockholders won't like it." He patted her shoulder. "Two or three hours of your life and it would all be over, and you'd get a big fat bonus."

"He's a dictator!" she protested harder. "The _Planet_ shouldn't try and present him on a 'personal' level. That would make him appear likeable. We really should be opposing him."

George snorted "Yes, I'm sure that will help. We'll protest, and then he'll see the error of his ways, step aside and let someone else rule the world. You've been reading too many of those anti-Superman pamphlets."

Kind of inevitable, thought Chloe, when you're the pamphlets' editor.

"Chloe," George continued, "his regime has been good to pretty much everyone. He doesn't need us to appear likeable. The masses adore him. They think he's some sort of a God, not just an E.T.. You are about to get a chance to satisfy their curiosity about the Man of Steel. No one will forget this interview. Or you."

"Sure, his regime has been good to everyone," said Chloe, "except our democracy and freedom." She wasn't going to get away from that, she knew. She'd have to go and meet him. Oh, God. She knew Ethan would have refused, but Ethan was dead for a decade. Chloe, however, was still very much alive and in need of employment.

George ignored her last words. He patted her shoulder again. "Go home and pack. The interview is scheduled for tomorrow afternoon, and we already have a first-class seat booked for you on the plane to Washington."

"First class?" asked Chloe. Nobody got first class on the expense of the _Planet_. Ever. The best anybody ever got was business, and that was reserved to living legends, like Perry White.

George smiled. "Only the best for our star reporter."

If Tom Paine would have gotten a chance to interview the English king, back in the eighteen century, what would he have asked?

Chloe sighed.


	2. Metropolis, 2006

Author's notes:

**This is a flashback chapter that takes place at the beginning of 2006. From here we'll move in linear order till 2019, in which the first chapter took place.**

1. Thanks again for my beta readers, **Last Scorpion** and **The Die Hard**, for cheering, moral support, and lots of grammar/spelling correction.

2. Lois – isn't present in this story, because I think Chloe is Lois, not in the Chlois theory way, but in qualities and merits.

3. Plots – no Stones of Stupidity, in case you wondered. Lana came back from Paris with Jason, but they had broken up, and he went back to wherever he came from. The meteor shower had nothing to do with Lana, and she was never possessed by a French witch, because it was the most annoying, incoherent plot line, ever.

4. The Talk – Clark told Chloe, after finally realizing she probably already knows (took him long enough!), then decided to tell Lana, and actually date her. I promise, gentle readers, to separate them as soon as it's plausible, as I despite Lana as the next viewer. I just want Clark to understand she isn't good for him.

5. Lex – has never been light-switched to evil, never took Chloe to the caves, etc. Basically, he's the same person he was at the beginning of season 4. He knows that Clark is Superman (he's not an idiot) and they both had their rift because of Clark's many lies to him over the years. Regardless of that, he keeps Clark's secret. Also, he went back to Metropolis to run Luthor Corp, but probably won't be present at the story.

6. The Kents, Lionel and Shelby – were tragically killed at the meteor shower (what a wonderful plot device…)

7. Reviews – will motivate me to finish the story.

_"Smallville in general, and Clark in particular, had seen death way beyond their fair share. Each death made the town shadier, even though most people refused to discuss the matter, or even walk anywhere near Smallville's ever-growing graveyard. They preferred to think they still lived in the pre-first meteor shower town, but the heavy locks on their doors implied otherwise. _

_Clark tried to act the same way, but it was harder for him – he was present at most of those deaths. He refused to discuss Alicia Baker, for example, after our talk at the graveyard – and I was the one doing the talking on that occasion. _

_His attempt to escape Smallville's harsh reality was brought to an abrupt end with the deaths of Mr. and Mrs. Kent at the second meteor shower. He sold what was left of the farm – which wasn't much – and moved to Metropolis to attend Met U. That was the time he first took upon himself the part of the superhero, flying in the sky in his all-black outfit and a mask covering his face. _

_The press was quick to name him Superman, and nobody but Lana Lang and I knew the celebrated hero was in fact a tortured nineteen year-old boy, trying to save the world and redeem himself at the same time."_

**Chloe Sullivan, "Smallville – Clark Kent's early years" unpublished notes.**

Chloe's new article for the _Kansan,_ titled "Walking Skeletons – why does Met U ignore the growing numbers of anorexic and bulimic students?" was about to be e-mailed to the editor when Clark came flying through the open window and landed near her.

"Hi," She smiled at him. She reached for her closet and found the jeans and plaid shirt she always kept for times like these, and tossed them at him.

"Thanks," said Clark, and for a second he could only be seen as a blur. When he re-appeared he was wearing the clothes she'd given him. The famous costume was thrown at Chloe's bed.

Chloe eyed him. She couldn't remember ever seeing him that tired. She didn't think he could look that tired.

"Clark, what happened?" she asked, getting up from her chair and moving forward to look at his face.

"Earthquake in Bolivia." he said, yawning. He shook his head from side to side, as if trying to stay awake.

"When was the last time you slept?" inquired Chloe.

He wrinkled his forehead. "Six or seven days, I'm not exactly sure. Before the earthquake there was this really big terrorists' act in Iraq, and that flood in China…" His voice trailed off.

Chloe shook her head in disapproval. "Ok, Clark? This has got to stop. You're killing yourself! The world will have no use for a superhero with a breakdown." Physical or mental breakdown? Chloe wondered. Both seemed extremely likely at the moment.

"I can't stop, Chloe," Clark said, sitting on her bed and trying to hide a yawn with a big hand. "I'm needed. You know that."

"Well," said Chloe, putting on her most determined expression, "you're not going to be available for the next few hours. Lie down." she ordered.

"I can't." Clark protested, but eventually obeyed. Putting his head on her pillow, he murmured, "Maybe just a few minutes…" and was asleep before he finished the sentence.

Chloe rescued his black clothes from under his legs – he was going to need them later – and hid them in her closet, in case her roommate would enter.

Then she sat in her chair, article forgotten, and sighed deeply.

Shouldn't Lana be the one taking care of him? Chloe asked herself. She almost picked up her phone to dial Lana's number, but stopped midway. If Clark wanted to talk to Lana, he would have flown straight to Smallville, not to her dorm room. Thirty more seconds of flying weren't much for Clark, even in his current state.

Chloe shrugged. By now she had become smart enough to avoid putting herself in the middle of a Clark-Lana fight. Instead, she remembered she had an article to send and turned to the computer. After it was sent, she quietly grabbed her coat and went out in search of pizza. Clark might be fueled by sunlight, but eating wouldn't hurt him, either.

Chloe opened the door to find a half-awake Clark grinning at her.

"You know I'm able to hear the door, no matter how quietly you open it," he told her.

"Sorry," said Chloe.

"I didn't mean to wake you. Besides, you didn't hear me open the door earlier," she told him.

"I did," Clark stretched, "I was too tired to protest." He looked at the pizza box.

"Please, tell me it's for me," he said, reaching to take the carton from her.

"It is," confirmed Chloe, surrendering it to him "and why do I get a feeling that you're about to eat the pizza and the box as well?"

Clark took off the box's covering, then gave its contents an intense look. The pizza began to steam.

"That's better," he said in self-satisfaction. Chloe was reaching to take a piece, when Clark stopped her hand.

"It's too hot," Clark said. He took a slice, puffed gently over it and handed it to her. It was just the right temperature. Clark sat again on the bed, fully concentrated on the remaining slices.

"You didn't eat, either?" she asked, removing her coat and hanging it on the back of her chair.

"Not really," his voice was half choked because of the piece of pizza in his mouth.

"Now," said Chloe "after you've finished gulping down this pizza, you're going to your room to catch some sleep and work on that term paper for Wednesday," God, she thought, I sound like his mother.

Clark's face fell. "I should probably fly to Smallville and talk to Lana," he murmured.

"And that's bad because…?" Chloe left the rest of the sentence hanging.

Clark leaned backward, the pizza forgotten. "It's not bad…it's just that I know we're going to have another fight, and I hate fighting with Lana. She's going to be mad at me for not calling her last week."

Chloe seated herself next to him and patted his arm.

"She'll understand," Chloe said, although she didn't have much hope on the subject, "you can't control earthquakes, terrorists, or floods."

Clark, if possible, looked even more miserable than before.

"I suppose I could have called," he said, "but when I'm at work I have to be fully concentrated, and talking to Lana would distract me."

"Sounds logical," said Chloe, "but don't tell me that, tell Lana."

Clark straightened up a little bit. "Would you mind talking to her?" He asked eagerly, "you're way better with words than I'll ever be."

Chloe shook her head. "No way, Clark. If I ever want to play peacekeeper, I'll put on a blue beret and join the UN Forces."

Not only did she have to hear about Clark and Lana's problems, but now she was supposed to solve them as well?

Clark sighed. "I had a hunch you'd say that."

Chloe nodded and gave him a little shove, "Now go to your dorm and sleep for a while."

Clark managed to convince the university authorities to supply him with a single room, claiming "emotional distress" resulted from his parents' deaths. Chloe was the one who talked him into telling them that, although he had protested at first.

She didn't think he would have been able to hide his hero-related activities while sharing a room, because even the densest guy on earth was bound to notice Clark's weird habits sooner or later.

"I'm going, I'm going," Clark got up and looked around. "Where did you put my other clothes?" he asked.

"In the closet," answered Chloe, and went to open it. "Next time you drop by, bring some of your regular clothes; I'm kind of out of them," she said, looking around for a bag to hide the costume. At last she found one, dumped out the book she'd bought yesterday, and handed it to Clark.

"Thanks," he said, smiling at her. "You know you're a life saver, right?"

No, thought Chloe, that would be you. All I do is try to make your life a bit easier.

"Anytime," she said. "Now get out of here so I can study."

Two days went by, and Clark landed again in Chloe's room.

"What happened to your roommate?" he asked. "She's never here."

"Naomi is organizing tomorrow's feminist gathering, I think, and she said something about meeting her boyfriend later," answered Chloe. "We're about to protest about the lack of lighting in campus. Metropolis might be mutant-free, but being molested by a 'regular' pervert is bad enough."

Clark nodded. "I'd love to be there…"

"But you have the world to save," finished Chloe.

He chuckled, "More or less."

Chloe sat on her bed, and Clark came to sit next to her.

"So," she said, "I understand the world is pretty quiet today."

"For the moment," he said.

"What about your term paper? And all the other things we talked about?" Like Lana?

"Handed in the term paper," said Clark with a proud smile, "caught some sleep, and talked to Lana."

"How did it go?" asked Chloe.

"Talking to Lana?"

"Well, yes," said Chloe "I wasn't going to ask you about your nap."

"As usual," said Clark, "sometimes I think we're stuck in a loop: having the same conversation over and over again. Once it was about why I can't be honest with her, now we took that out of the way, and we keep repeating the "spending time together" issue." He sighed.

Recycling, thought Chloe: good for the environment, bad for a relationship.

"Is there a reason you don't try other subjects?" asked Chloe.

Clark got up and started pacing the room. "To tell the truth, we don't have that much to talk about. In high school we knew the same people, had the same classes, and had the same mutant problems..." He turned his back to Chloe "But now we don't have much to talk about. Other than the past."

A long distance relationship, thought Chloe, in more than one way. She was hardly surprised with Clark and Lana's problems, but she was surprised Clark didn't ignore them, or just blame himself. Maybe he was growing up.

Clark turned back to face Chloe "I dreamed about this for so long," he said miserably "to be able to talk to Lana about everything, to tell her my secret. But now that I have…" he gestured his hands helplessly, "we still don't really talk."

"Maybe that's what you should talk to her about," said Chloe. "Maybe she feels the same way. You keep talking to me about things you should talk to her about."

"Well, you're easier to talk to," said Clark defensively.

That's because you're not in love with me, thought Chloe. You want Lana to love you and adore you, so you don't tell her anything that might not be appropriate for her to hear. To me, on the other hand, you can tell whatever you want, because I'm only your best friend.

"But you're right," continued Clark, and Chloe thanked God he couldn't hear her inner dialogue "I should make the effort."

He stepped closer to her. "Thanks," he said. Chloe got up from the bad.

"Are you heading for Smallville right now?" she asked.

He shook his head "Right now I'm heading to the shower. Later I'll fly and talk to her."

"Well, that's definitely the right order of things," Chloe grinned at him. He grinned back.

"So, what are you going to do tonight?" He asked Chloe.

"I've got a date," announced Chloe.

"A date?" repeated Clark, "With whom?"

"Don't sound so surprised, Clark."

"I wasn't!" said Clark "Well, a little" he admitted "but that's because your dates in high school didn't normally end up well."

"They tried to murder me, you mean?" said Chloe.

"Well, yes"

"Don't worry," She assured him "I ran a background check. He's a junior, majors in History, and grew up in Kansas City. I doubt he's a homicidal mutant."

"Be careful" said Clark, his eyebrows closer than before.

You're jealous, thought Chloe. I gave you all the opportunities in the world and you never took any of them – well, except for that infamous prom – and you're still jealous. Once I would have thought it was because you had feelings for me, too. Now I know it's your possessiveness; you hate having another male invading your territory.

"I will," she promised him.

He got even closer, lowered his head and kissed her cheek. "See you," he said, then turned and flew out of the window.

"Chloe, wait up!" Chloe heard Clark yell. She stopped and turned to see him run towards her. She guessed he actually found the time to attend one of his classes. Clark had the worst attendance record – and the best grades – in their year. His secret was a perfect memory and the ability to read a page in about a nano-second. He read all his text books at the beginning of the semester and never looked at them again.

He got closer, and she was happy to see he wore the green V sweater she bought him for his birthday under his light-brown coat.

"So?" he said when he reached her, she could see his warm breath in the cold air.

"So?" she repeated.

"How was your date?" asked Clark. It's good he wears green, thought Chloe; it matches the color of his face right now. Well, he'd be relived to hear the story of this date.

She shrugged, "He turned out to be one of those who believe in "Intelligent Design".

Clark's mouth twitched "Ouch," he said. "Sorry."

So why do you look considerably happier than you were when we started this conversation? Chloe wanted to ask him. Instead she shrugged again.

"When he started lecturing me about why Darwin couldn't have possibly been right, and wanted me to write an article about the subject – from his point of view, of course – I got up and left the restaurant," said Chloe.

"Look on the bright side;" suggested Clark, "at least he didn't try to kill you."

Chloe began to walk faster "I want more than someone who won't try to kill me." She said past her shoulder.

Clark widened his steps a little to match her new pace. "I didn't mean to upset you," he began.

"I know you didn't." She tried to smile at him. "It's just that I want someone who will not only not try to kill me, but like me. And I'll like him. And one day we can honestly say we love each other."

"And live happily ever after," said Clark, his eyes wide, "I didn't think you were much for romance, Chlo."

"As much as I'd love to say that I'm perfectly happy on my own, Clark – that's not exactly true. I'm fine on my own, but I want more. I think that somewhere deep down I still believe in true love and happy ending."

Then she stopped abruptly and looked into his eyes.

"And if you ever tell anyone I said that, I'll come after you with a kryptonite bat"

Clark laughed and patted her shoulder. "Your secret is safe with me," he said.

"Oh, and I just remembered," he continued. "Grandfather Clark invited us both for lunch on Saturday. Are you free?"

Chloe had met William Clark twice so far. At the second time, while Clark was at one of his "bathroom breaks" (car accident nearby) Mr. Clark took her hand and told her that when Clark is done with the "Small-town brunette" he'd be happy to pay for Chloe and Clark's wedding.

"Sure," smiled Chloe.

"Good," said Clark, "and I think that's your building."

"It is," said Chloe, and Clark opened the door for her. She smiled at him and ran to class.

_"I wish I could say I saw it coming. In a book, I would have definitely thought "foreshadowing". In a book, on the other hand, I would have had the back cover to guide me through the plot – and I never would have managed to avoid reading it before actually reading the book._

_Yet everything looked perfectly innocent and beautiful at the time when Clark, as Superman, first meddled with society's affairs. I was covering Naomi's feminist gathering on a cold day in February; Only thirty people or so bothered coming, and we all stood there, well wrapped in our coats, and listened. _

_Clark appeared about five minutes after she began her speech. He hovered above the crowd and listened as well. Poor Naomi choked on her words, and I gestured at her frantically to go on. When she finally came to her senses, she continued speaking, and I took a few good photos of Clark above everything. _

_The news spread faster than Clark could fly, and since I was the only reporter around (none of the other newspapers would bother with a feminist gathering) my pictures got a handsome price. The real pay-off was at the day after, when Met U's president pompously announced the installation of new lampposts all over campus, and reinforcement of the campus police after dark, as a tribute for "Metropolis' special protector."_

_So everyone was happy, besides Clark, who finally realized how much an impact he had on the adoring public, but couldn't bring himself to feel worthy enough to accept it."_

**Chloe Sullivan, "Destiny shock – The farm boy turns superhero", unpublished notes**

Chloe moved one of the shopping bags to her other hand so that she'd be able to knock on Clark's door.

He opened it with his hair still wet and smelling from his shampoo. Chloe inhaled deeply.

"You," she announced, grinning, "have made lots of women on this campus very happy." She stepped inside the room. It was clean, if Spartan.

Clark smiled in embarrassment, "I didn't actually "do" anything," he said. "I mean, I hadn't saved anyone or something, I just showed my support."

"Well," said Chloe, "your support, unlike mine, actually makes thing happen around here. And it made us a little money as well," she handed him the bags.

"I bought you some clothes, and ordered us both next year's text books with the money I got from selling those pictures to Reuters."

Clark opened one of the bags. "New costumes?" he asked, "what's wrong with my old blacks?"

"First," said Chloe, "last time I checked, you were down to two sets of your blacks -earthquakes and floods aren't good for clothing, you know. Second, those blacks are completely different," she assured him with a grin. She took one of the shirts and showed him the label.

"Superman's line?" Clark asked.

"I considered informing them that Superman spends half his time in plaid, but was afraid I might turn those tent-shirts of yours fashionable" Chloe sat herself on Clark's spinning chair and laid her elbows on the back of the chair.

"For your information, those shirts are very practical when living on a farm," said Clark, his voice slightly hurt.

"That must be why you keep wearing them in Metropolis," replied Chloe

Clark ignored her last comment.

"I still don't get it," he said, staring at the label. "All I ever wear as Superman is black."

Chloe spread her hands to both directions "That's why the entire line is in black. By the way, the salesgirl asked me if I were buying all that black for Superman."

"What did you say?" asked Clark.

"The truth, of course," said Chloe with all the innocence she could master.

"She laughed and told me that her boyfriend, too, started wearing an awful lot of black since Superman appeared," she grinned. "A farm boy from Smallville as a fashion leader. Now I have seen everything."

Clark blushed. He lowered his head, careful not to look at Chloe's face.

"Chloe," he said, and she was surprised to hear the desperation in his voice, "why do people insist on making something out of me that I'm not? They insist on calling me a hero…" he said, moving to sit on his bed. He still clutched the black shirt in his hands.

Ok, thought Chloe. What the hell am I suppose to say now? Somebody, please give me a script!

"What makes you think you're not a hero?" She asked carefully.

"The fact that I'm not!" he almost shouted, "I'm not more of a hero than any cop or fireman. Less, actually. I'm trying to redeem myself. They aren't"

Next year I'm taking Morality 101, thought Chloe.

"I suppose you're talking about your summer in Metropolis," Chloe said, wishing again for some kind of guidelines for the conversation. When did he become so self-conscious?

He scraped the shirt with his hands.

"I robbed ATMs, Chloe, a bank; I set a police car on fire; I spent 240,000 dollars on a stupid sports car; I left my parents when they needed me the most; and I told my best friend to get out of my life."

"Well, I wasn't much of a good friend back then," sighed Chloe "more like the world's worst friend." She felt her cheeks flush with shame.

"You never betrayed me, Chloe," said Clark in earnest." You could have told Lionel Luthor exactly where I was, kept your column and your father's job, and you chose keeping my secret over all those things. Didn't we already agree all of that was more than enough to make up for your mistake?"

Chloe nodded, reluctant.

"You redeemed yourself, Chloe" said Clark, "and now I have to do the same. But I have a lot more to make up for than you had.

"Clark, if there was anything I learned from my mistakes – other than that messing with Lionel Luthor is a bad idea – it's that redemption isn't a light switch. It's like a journey, and that's one road you can't fly. But personally, I think you've already done a long way."

"That's the point, Chloe," replied Clark, "I haven't. I'm being rewarded in every step of the way. Whenever I rescue someone, people cheer. I get flowers from little girls, and I've been on the cover of every magazine on the planet, and now my mere presence gets things moving in a way that nobody else could move them. That's not redemption. That's being a celebrity."

"It's also inevitable," said Chloe. She got up from her chair, sat next to him on the bed and took the poor shirt from his hands before it would be torn apart.

"You're more than a hero, Clark. You're a savior, a symbol. You give people hope, and I think it's amazing. The crime in Metropolis is down to its lowest level ever...I even saw a survey the other day that the level of contentment among the city's residents is up by thirty percent since you showed up. And it's not like you're making any profit out of this."

"Except for clothes and text books," Clark gestured to the shirt Chloe was holding.

"Well, the way things are, you need new costumes almost every week, and there's no way around it. You also don't have too much cash to spare. Besides, I was the one selling the pictures, so blame me," replied Chloe. She patted his knee."Feel any better?"

Clark gave her one of his long, lingering looks he had mastered to perfection over the years. Chloe felt her heart beginning to melt. Stop it, Chloe, she reminded herself sharply. He's not yours. Never was, never will be. Lana owns him, God knows why.

"You see me as better than I am, Chloe," he said, "and I do feel better. How come you never hit me with that metaphorical kryptonite bat of yours for being an idiot?"

"I knew that one day you'll pull your head out of your metaphorical butt," answered Chloe cheerfully. And fly back to me, she thought. Because you are worth the wait.

**That's it for now, I hope you enjoyed it. Ideas and comments will be very welcomed.**


	3. Still 2006

Author's notes:

At last! Sorry it took me so long, but I had exams. Thanks for all the kind reviewers. I was about to drop the story when another review came along;) You really keep me going.

Thanks, as always, to my beta readers, **The Die Hard** and **Last Scorpion.**

Clark – had posed a very big challenge to me, because of his incoherent characterization at the show (SV's biggest crime). I tried to make him seem in character without giving him a lobotomy, which was hard.

Televisionwithoutpity – the best place to discuss Smallville in depth. Most of the ideas in this story originated from there. Thank you all, Twoppers.

Lana – should be executed, but that's nothing new.

Reviews – are very much needed, especially about Clark's characterization. And to motivate me to finish this story.

_

* * *

_

_**Chapter 3**_

_"…One of the things Clark's biographers enjoy the most, besides prowling into the reasons of the "Rift" between him and Lex Luthor, those five years in which they had no communication, is to wonder what, exactly, happened between Clark Kent and Lana Lang._

_Was Clark ever in love with Lana? Was it a crush? Infatuation?_

_Most of them ended up defining Lana as "high school crush", although there's a small group (including, of course, Edison) that claims that Lana was and is Clark's one true love. Edison, in "Better than Human" (2017), dedicates five chapters to Lana. _

_On the other hand, Naismith-Vorkosigan, in her book "Meteor Capital of the World – Clark Kent's childhood and youth in Smallville" (2018) gives Lana only half a chapter, describing her as a "first, immature crush" and as an "eternal damsel in distress". _

_I doubt even Clark himself knows the answer to that question. He passionately claimed to be in love with Lana through all our teenage years, only to claim later, with equal passion, that he was mistaken._

_Why did Clark believe himself to be in love with Lana all those years? _

_As much as I want to take the historical, scientific point of view of the matter, I have to admit myself hopelessly biased. There's an extremely appropriate Freud quote to describe Clark's feelings towards Lana: "**The sense of inferiority and the sense of guilt are exceedingly difficult to distinguish."**_

_Clark already had a crush on Lana, the town's unofficial princess, to begin with._

_When he learned how he came to earth, and convinced himself that he was responsible for the death of Lana's parents, it was easy for him to start seeing her as the idyll, to seek her forgiveness, and to believe himself in love with her._

**Chloe Sullivan, "Destiny shock – The farm boy turns superhero" unpublished notes**

This could only be described as "idyll" thought Chloe. A rare sunny day in the middle of winter, a free period between _"106-Writing Structure" _and _"190-Introduction to Mass Media"_, and Clark only had to save people twice this morning. They were sitting on a bench in mid-campus, Clark was reading "Starship Troopers" again, and Chloe tried to come up with ways to make the rector confess the upcoming budget cuts at the _Kansan_.

"Chloe…" began Clark.

"Yes?"

Clark took a breath. "You remember Justin Gaines, right?"

"There's a saying about never forgetting the guy who tried to kill you. Well, perhaps not, but there should be," answered Chloe. So much for "idyll", she thought.

"When you found out about his…ability," he continued "I mean, before you found out he was homicidal," he paused.

"Yes?" said Chloe again.

"Were you freaked by it?" Clark finally asked.

"Hmm," Chloe considered the question for a moment. "No, not really. We kissed, and things flew in the air…it was kind of romantic. Till he tried to kill me, that is."

Clark gave a thoughtful nod. "So, if he didn't try to kill you, and was just a nice guy with telekinesis, you wouldn't have been freaked out."

Chloe chuckled, "I'm not easily freaked out, Clark. If Justin was what he appeared to be…we could have had a great relationship. You know, make each other miserable for three or four years, then break up with a bang." She tried to smile.

Clark nodded, "I see".

Chloe waited for fifteen seconds, but Clark didn't seem like he was about to say anything more.

"Ok, Clark. Is there a reason for this sudden interest in a five-year-old fling of mine?"

"Well…" Clark said, looking away from Chloe.

"Come on, Clark. Spill it." Chloe patted his hand.

"I could be wrong…" said Clark.

"But?" Asked Chloe.

"I feel that…I feel that Lana is freaked out by me." He said at last.

Oh, no, thought Chloe. Lana was never what you'd call "open minded" about Smallville's mutants. If she included Clark with the rest of the "freaks", serious shit was about to hit the fan. On the other hand, Chloe tried to assure herself, Clark did save Lana from the last 13,342 mutant stalkers. That must count for something.

"Maybe she's still a little shocked?" Asked Chloe. "Think about it, Clark: she just found out the guy she's in love with is an alien, that he has super-powers, and that he created an alter-ego that is the most famous hero on the planet. Give her time to adjust." And those have to be the reasons, thought Chloe, because Lana really, really shouldn't be allowed to feed Clark's inferiority complex (why does he have one anyway? You would have thought it would be the other way around).

"You never seemed freaked out by me," said Clark.

"Well," replied Chloe, "I had time to adjust. You know, all those weeks when I dropped elephant-sized hints on your head, and you never noticed."

"I did notice," Clark protested, "and I was the one freaked out. I couldn't know for sure, and I didn't have the guts to ask."

Before Chloe could reply, his expression turned concentrated, as if he was listening to something only he could hear.

"Troubles?" Asked Chloe.

"Always," replied Clark, getting off the bench. "And, freak or no freak, here I come to save the day." He grabbed his backpack; "see you in class," he added quickly, squeezed her hand and disappeared.

Chloe stared at his place for a moment, where his book laid forgotten, and wondered why she felt a sudden urge to cry, and for whom.

* * *

"Chloe, we can't print this," said Dan stubbornly, nodding towards his laptop screen.

"That's Inquisitor stuff. The _Kansan_ deals with fact."

Chloe didn't expect Dan to say anything else, but she had to try anyway.

"Dan, have I ever brought you anything that wasn't the truth, the entire truth and nothing but the truth?"

"No," admitted Dan, sitting himself at his chair. "But I can't print this, Chloe. Meteor rocks and mutants? I asked a guy from the Life Science faculty, and he looked at me as if I'm out of my mind."

"That's the popular opinion," murmured Chloe. God, how she missed being the editor. But this was Met U, where people were actually interested with journalism, and nobody handed out editorial positions to freshmen.

"So how do you explain Superman?" Chloe continued "When he first appeared, both biologists and physics said there was no way such a person exists, because he breaks every physics and biology law, but yet he flies around every day rescuing people." She crossed her arms.

Dan shrugged. "One oddness of the universe I can take. Countless mutants attacks – no." He returned his look to his laptop, and waved his hand at her in dismissal.

"Go bring me another one of those budget-cuts articles, and tell Kent I want his Serenity DVD review by Thursday. I don't care how many term papers he has to write."

* * *

Chloe went back to her dorm room to find Naomi practicing her sword.

"Another meeting of the historical nuts?" Asked Chloe, dumping her bag on her bed and sitting down.

"We prefer the term "Society of Creative Anachronism"" answered Naomi with a curl of her lips. ""Historical nuts" is only our nickname…and yes. Jeff will be here any moment to pick me up." She returned the sword to its hilt.

"I just don't understand what was so wonderful about the Middle Ages you have to re-create them. As far as I know, it not only had the Black Plague, but the Hundered-Year-War as well," said Chloe.

"Oh, we ignore the bad parts," said Naomi.

"Like the lack of sanitation?"

"Exactly," Naomi unbuckled her belt. "Another subject," she said as she bent to open her sports bag. "Remember that suicidal cousin of mine?"

"Naomi, reporting the news isn't what I'd classify as "suicidal"," protested Chloe.

Naomi shrugged, "it is if you do it from Iraq."

"Well, they do practice an "Off with his head!" routine with reporters there." Admitted Chloe, "but the world needs to know what's going on."

"Anyway, if they won't behead him till next month, he's coming back to Metropolis. Apparently, the _Planet _wants him back in the city"

Chloe straightened up. Now that was interesting. "Do I get to meet him?"

Naomi smiled smugly, "I e-mailed him a couple of weeks ago, and he remembers your _Planet _columns. He said he'll be happy to meet you, if only to estimate the competition."

Chloe couldn't help but smile, and felt the blood coloring her cheeks.

"You're blushing," observed Naomi, "is he that good, journalism-speaking? Personally, I enjoy his articles, but I'm biased. I think he was the only older cousin of mine who didn't make fun of me when we grew up."

"Oh, he's good," said Chloe. "Great writing style, clear and sharp. He doesn't butter up the truth so that people at home think that everything's fine. Does he really remember my columns?"

Naomi nodded, "that's what he wrote. I've got a good feeling about this. Maybe you'll finally get over that farm boy of yours." Naomi opened her sports bag and put the belt and the sword inside, then closed the zipper.

"I am over him," protested Chloe.

Naomi gave her a very skeptical look.

"At least, I'm not as in love with him as I used to be. I'm in that comfortable level where I'm interested enough to feel that rush of adrenaline when he enters the room, but not enough to hurt much over him." Added Chloe.

"Meaning you don't mind him and squirrel-face?" Asked Naomi, sitting on her bad and looking at Chloe.

"Lana doesn't look like a squirrel," said Chloe, grinning against her will.

"Yes, she does." Replied Naomi, "Remember when she came here last week and we went for coffee? And she kept complaining about its quality? I kept expecting people to hand her walnuts for storage."

"Well, maybe a little. When she's upset. But she's my friend, and if I'll keep getting a visual of a squirrel every time I look at her, I'm going to laugh so hard she'd never speak to me again."

Naomi snorted "Well, that won't be much of a loss. I still can't believe that, after you let her live in your house, she goes and dates your crush. That's the worst back-stabbing I ever heard of. If she did it to me, she'd get my sword in her guts in return, yet you still talk to her. You must be applying for sainthood."

"But she's Clark's crush." Said Chloe defensively, "I can't expect them both to stay miserable for all eternity because I have a crush on him," especially when she felt so damn guilty about what she did last time Lana and Clark tried to date, thought Chloe.

"Whatever," said Naomi, who didn't sound very convinced. "My point is that you have to get over Clark. Sure, he's nice, and he's hot – don't tell Jeff I said that – but he has bad taste in women. He prefers squir – um, Lana – to you. You are entitled to a mourning period, where you can cry, watch bad movies, and eat as much chocolate as possible, but you have to get over him."

There was a knock on their door. "That's Jeff," said Naomi, getting up, "we'll talk when I get back, ok?" she added, grabbing her bag.

"See you later," said Chloe.

After Naomi was gone, Chloe sat on her bed for a few minutes, thinking. She had to admit Naomi was right - hell, six years is long enough for any crush, love, or whatever, unless you're dating the guy. But her problems with Clark were put aside as she thought about the news. Ethan Lane thought she was "competition!"

* * *

_"…I should have run. The moment I saw that tall, plaid-clad farm boy, I should have run home and let my father know we're moving back to Metropolis. Clark and I were both thirteen at that time. My father just got a job at the Luthor plant at Smallville, and Clark was assigned by the school to show me around. It wasn't love at first sight, though I was definitely impressed – he was already six feet at height, with that thick dark hair and beautiful green eyes that later would put him in People's Most Beautiful list. He also had tons of charm and quick wit, which I found out later, and fell in love with. Clark was my first love. _

_But at that first day, all I saw was a flannel-clad farm boy who looked at me in such a way, with puppy eyes, that I felt obligated to make clear to him the situation between us. I kissed him in his barn, near the window. I wanted to get that out of the way so we could be friends, and I wanted to know how his lips felt like. I should have run._

_Six years later, I was still in love with Clark Kent, though not with the same heat. We've been through too much, and I became somewhat disillusioned. Clark was in love with Lana, or so I thought, and I understood I had to get over him. Ironically, my decision came about the same time he had "grown into me" as my father once put it…"_

**Chloe Sullivan, "Destiny shock – The farm boy turns superhero" unpublished notes**

He was fine, Chloe told herself as she knocked on Clark's door. He's Superman, after all. So he missed their meeting at the library. Perhaps there was a disaster in one of those parts of the world the media has given up on long time ago, or perhaps was never interested with. Africa, for example; that was a part of the world that would have to die three times from AIDS, hunger and thirst, before getting sixty seconds at one of the major TV networks. Clark could be in Nigeria, or Zaire.

She knocked again and waited. "Clark," she called, feeling rather stupid, "are you in there?" There was no answer, and she tried the knob. The door was open.

He was sitting on his bed, his head between his hands.

"Clark?" She asked, "what happened?" She sat closed to him and put a hand on his shoulder. "What's wrong?" What a stupid question, she thought. His parents are dead, he has the responsibility of being Superman…so many things were wrong. But she had to say _something_.

"I broke up with Lana," he said in a shattered voice, his head still buried in his hands.

Of course, it could just be teen angst, thought Chloe, then felt guilty. This was obviously a serious business for Clark.

She patted his shoulder. "Are you sure? Perhaps you just had a fight?" She asked.

He took his head out from between his hands, and glanced at her hand on his shoulder.

"She never did that, you know." He said.

"Did what?" It couldn't be, thought Chloe. Lana must be insane; or as cold as the next

refrigerator; or just gay.

"This. Touching. Whenever I tried to put my hand around her shoulder, for example, she made up an excuse to get away. " Said Clark miserably. "I told you, she thinks I'm a freak."

"You're overreacting." Chloe said, though she wasn't that sure. She wanted to jump into her car, drive over to Smallville and hit Lana on the head, Lana-Fu or not.

"I'm not," said Clark gravely. "I remembered the way you always tell me I should talk to her about our relationship. So I foolishly went and asked her if she was freaked out by me."

Chloe swore silently. Why couldn't she hold her tongue? It's not like she knew anything about relationship. They usually tried to kill her on the first date, for God's sake.

"What did she say?" Chloe asked the inevitable question.

Clark stared at a distant point, away from Chloe. "She couldn't even look me in the eye. She began to cry and said she was sorry, that she thought this could work. Then she said again she was sorry. I didn't stay to hear the rest."

She was sorry, too, thought Chloe, somewhat surprised. She always thought she'd be happy the day Clark and Lana would break up, but looking at the broken boy near her, she couldn't feel anything but sadness. He didn't deserve that. He gave his adopted world all he had, especially to Lana. He didn't deserve to be treated like a freak.

She stroked his bent head. "Clark, if it makes you feel any better, I think Lana is an idiot. She's stupid enough to be freaked out by the best guy I ever had the honor to meet."

He looked into her eyes for the first time. "Chloe, why aren't you freaked out by me?"

"I have no reason to be freaked out by you, Clark. I told you I only freak out on special occasions, and you don't qualify as one. Sorry to disappoint you," replied Chloe.

That won her half a smile. "Thank you." He said.

"For what?" She asked, "for telling the truth? You shouldn't thank me for that."

"For being so accepting. You're the only one I can be myself around."

"That's what friends do, Clark. Accept each other. Lana is the exception, not the rule."

He needs human touch, she thought, and hugged him. He clutched onto her as if he was drowning, and she was his rescue wheel, for dear life. And then he kissed her.

"Thank you," he said again as their lips parted, and kissed her again.

Chloe knew she should say something to make him stop. This wasn't right. But this was Clark Kent, whom she never could refuse a thing. She's think about it tomorrow, she said to herself as he took off her shirt. She'd think about dignity and platonic friendship and not being the rebound girl. Right now, she wanted that as much as he did.


	4. Aftermath

_**Aftermath.**_

_"…young Clark didn't have many friends when he was growing up. His parents were always afraid that someone might find out his big secret, and he will no longer be able to pretend he was just a regular boy. But Clark did have friends, and they made up in their quality for their quantity. We've already told you that Clark was friends with Lex Luthor, after he saved him when his car crushed into the river. There was Pete Ross, who he grew up with from a very early age. There was Lana Lang, which he very much liked but was afraid to approach. And of course, there was Chloe Sullivan, who edited the school newspaper and had a wonderful "Wall of Weird" about all the weird occurrences in Smallville…"_

**- From _A Child's History of Superman_****(2123), by Ross, Peter Lang III.**

A dead, dark hour after midnight, when one, supposedly, could look her life in the face. Life's face was grim and disapproving at the moment, because Chloe had awakened to find herself alone in Clark's room. There was no note, but at least he had covered her with his blanket before leaving. She rose to a sitting position and tightened it around her naked body. The light was off, which suited her just fine.

'So, Chloe' she said to herself. 'Let's clear what's just happened. One: you deflowered Clark Kent. Two: he ran away like a scared rabbit. What's next?' Who would have thought that Clark, after Jessie, Kyla, his Very Special Summer Vacation in Metropolis, Alicia, and Lana (ok, _that_ wasn't a surprise) would still be a virgin? It was her, with her limited experience on the matter, that guided him. She had to say he did rather well. In a way, she was part of the first mating experiment between humans and aliens. Then she remembered Clark's psycho of a birth father and Lana's great aunt.

In Chloe's opinion, there was a steady ground to the assumption that for generations, Kryptonians of House El were shown a picture of a relative of Lana (Clark told her that Lana's great aunt looked just like her) and were told to look her up for mating purposes when they reach that benighted planet.

She reached to the floor and felt around to find her bra, then her blouse, then found her panties and had to unwrap the blanket to put them on. If Clark wanted to avoid the aftermath, Chloe wasn't the one to force him into it. Hell, _she_ didn't wantto have that inevitable, heart-to-heart discussion. Quite the opposite - Chloe had every intention of sparing herself Clark's lame 'I'm sorry' and/or 'I'm not over Lana,' and him looking ashamed. She knew he was going to feel guilty about the sex, even though he was the 'innocent' one before tonight.

She grabbed her pants and pulled them on. She was just going to tiptoe her way out through the hall, pray that no one would see her, and sneak back to her dorm. Next time she would see Clark, they would pretend that nothing ever happened, like they always did. It was going to be ok. Lots of best friends had sex in a moment of weakness, and managed to get things back to normal after that.

She was stuck in the position of being Clark's first, Chloe thought as she buttoned her jeans. First kiss, first he took flying, first sex. She tucked her feet into her boots, zipped them and stood up, passing her fingers through her hair and flattening it so she would be more presentable. Her bag made a dark silhouette against the floor, and she bent to pick it up.

They could still be friends, she told herself again as she shouldered the bag. Clark would want to put this unfortunate episode behind him as much as she did. It would take a week or two, but in the end, Clark would fly back to Lana, who was the Konrad Lorenz to his goose. He'd apologize for the horrible crime of being an alien, and, after a while, Lana would be kind and gracious enough to forgive him. Till next time. As much as she wanted to think that Clark deserved everything he was going to get from Lana, she still felt sorry for him, like she felt for Darwin award winners.

Careful not to run into things in the dark, Chloe made her way to the door. Her hand had almost touched the knob, when she heard Clark's "whoosh", and felt a burst of cold wind at her back. She sighed inwardly. So close and yet so far. She'd just have to stay and watch Clark staring at her with his puppy eyes. She turned around, just in time to see Clark shoving his mask inside the pocket of his black jeans. He was illuminated by the moonlight coming from the open window and, if she hadn't been so embarrassed, she would have thought he looked quite impressive.

"Um, hey," she said, carefully avoiding his eyes.

His eyebrows narrowed in a disapproving manner. "Were you just going to leave?" he asked.

"I figured it would be best for both of us," Chloe replied. "Besides, you shouldn't talk. It was you who left first." Not very mature, she thought, but true.

"I had some thinking to do," said Clark.

Thinking. How to explain the situation to Lana?

"Look, Clark, it's ok. Really. You were on the rebound, I wasn't thinking it through…we'll just call it temporary insanity. If you feel like confessing to Lana, it's ok. If not, I won't be the one to tell her." If Clark wanted to mess up his life, that was his business, even if it made Chloe sick to the stomach.

He took a step forward; she took half a step backwards, like in an old-fashioned dance. She turned away and reached for the light switch. The light helped diminish the unreal quality Clark had upon him at dark. Chloe normally didn't see the Superman in Clark, even when he wore his costume, but she did see it tonight, and she wondered why. Perhaps it was because she remembered how he looked like naked. That inhuman perfection. It was the small details, really; the lack of hair, the amazing density of his muscles.

"Chloe, we need to talk," Clark said quietly. Just like she expected, Chloe thought. He'd start with "I'm sorry", go on to "I'm not over Lana" (big surprise) and maybe "I took advantage of you" (to show he didn't think she was capable of making the decision to have casual sex herself, just like him).

Chloe sighed. She'll just listen and get it over with, she decided. She went to sit on the bed, trying not to blush when she remembered what they'd done here.

He sat on the chair next to his desk, never taking his eyes off her.

"Whatever it is, Clark, just say it," she told him. She was still trying to avoid his eyes.

"Ok…" he took a deep breath and exhaled, "Chloe Sullivan…will you marry me?"

"Are you out of your mind!" said Chloe without thinking. Then she looked at Clark's face and regretted it. She really could use a commercial break here, like the one that happened in every decent show after a marriage proposal. She closed her wide-open mouth and waited for an explanation.

"You don't have to sound so shocked," he said to her.

"I'm not supposed to sound so shocked?" asked Chloe, "Clark, you just proposed to me, out of the blue. Of course I'm supposed to sound shocked." It's the blonde hair, decided Chloe. Clark confused her with the late Alicia. Then a shocking thought came to her.

"Clark," Chloe said slowly, "Change your clothes. All of them, and toss those you're wearing to the other side of the room."

She saw the realization coming to his face. "You think I'm on Red Kryptonite." He said.

"Just do it, Clark."

"I'm not drugged, Chloe!" Clark yelled. He looked enraged.

"Prove it." Chloe crossed her hands over her chest and waited. She prayed she was wrong. She wondered if she could make it to her room, to the lead box under the bed.

"Fine," he said at last. A blur, and he was wearing his best clothes – she knew it because she picked them for him. He was wearing a tie now, for God's sake. It was a little lopsided, but she wasn't petty. The blacks he was wearing earlier were in a pile at the other corner of them room."

"Feel any different?" she asked.

"No!" he shouted.

"Shh!" she whispered. "You're going to wake the entire floor." If he wasn't drugged by that cursed rock, then what was it?

"I don't care! I can't believe you thought I was on red kryptonite."

"Clark, please. You come in and act completely out of character. Red Kryptonite was the first thing that came to my mind."

"Hmmph," said Clark, who appeared to understand the logic against his will.

"Well, I'm not on it, and I think it's a good idea." He began to pace the room, while Chloe watched him in disbelief. It wasn't Red Kryptonite, and it wasn't somebody else, (say, Lionel Luthor). She could see it in his eyes; hear it in the pattern of his words.

Good idea. Heh. Fifteen-year-old Chloe would have thought that. Even seventeen-year-old Chloe would have been excited at the idea of having Clark for as long as they both shall live – but the nineteen-year-old Chloe thought it was the worst idea she had ever heard, and that included invading Russia in winter.

"I know it's a bit sudden," Clark continued. "But last night…made a lot of things more clear."

"In what way?" asked Chloe. She was pretty sure it was the realization that he wanted sex, and that he wasn't going to get any from Lana.

"We have a great partnership," he said.

"We do," agreed Chloe.

"So why not make it permanent? For better and for worst…"

Because it wouldn't work, thought Chloe, and because Clark was obviously still on the rebound, eager for acceptance, after the blow he'd suffered from Lana. He was also trying to retcon the situation so it would fit with Jonathan and Martha Kent's strict education about out-of-marriage sex.

"Well, for starters, you broke up with Lana yesterday!" It was eight hours at most.

"I did," said Clark.

"Don't you think that waiting, say, a month, before you propose to another girl is a good idea?"

"Normally, sure, but not in our case. We've known each other for more than half a decade now, Chloe. Why wait any longer? I know it took me a long time to acknowledge it, but you and I are right for each other in a way Lana and I never were." His voice was excited. "Both of us don't have much family left, Chloe. We can create our own. I know my parents would have been happy to see us together."

Right for each other? She used to think so. That, if only Clark would open up his eyes and see her, grow into her, they could live together happily ever after. Perhaps she should take him up on his offer. He wasn't in love with her, she knew that, but they had deep affection for each other, and love tended to disappear in the course of a long marriage life anyway. Partnership, sex, and a bunch of (adopted) kids. Not a bad life, but she wanted more.

"I'm sorry, Clark," said Chloe, not unkindly. "But this is a bad idea. We have a great partnership, why ruin it? Even if you didn't just end another relationship," was it really over? She didn't think so. "I doubt this is right for us. Especially at nineteen."

"We're both old souls," Clark tried to smile. He noticed the condition of his tie for the first time and straightened it, tightening the knot at the center of his collar.

"Yours is," told him Chloe, "mine just looks mature for its age."

This time he actually smiled, and so did she. And for a moment she wondered again what-if…and dismissed it again.

His face had grown serious again. "Is it because of what I am, Chloe?" he asked "I thought that you, of all people…"

"No, Clark," Chloe said with patience. "The list of reasons for us not to get married is as long as my arm. Us being from biologically different species is pretty close to the end of that list. It's not _the_ problem." Although, thought Chloe, Clark would have probably preferred it to be the problem. It's easier to know that a girl doesn't want you because of what you are than to know that a girl doesn't want you because of _who _you are.

Clark went to his chair and sat down again, facing her. "How about sharing that long list of reasons with me?" he asked. "I would have thought that the 'biologically different species' problem would be the first on the list."

Fine, thought Chloe. Give him the list of reasons. Perhaps he'd come back to his senses.

"One," she began to count on her fingers, holding one out "you broke up with Lana yesterday. You're on the rebound and not thinking straight."

"Chloe, it's just the other way around, I told you that breaking up with Lana made things a lot clearer…"

"Quiet in the crowd, please," Chloe told him, "you wanted a list, didn't you?"

"I did," said Clark.

"So let me finish. You can answer to each reason after I'm done."

"I was just trying to tell you why that reason isn't valid."

"Clark?"

"Yes?"

"Shut up."

"Fine," Clark grumbled. He leaned backwards in his chair and waited.

"Two," continued Chloe, "We're nineteen. I'm not marrying anyone at nineteen. Not even you. Marriage is a thing…a thing that grown-ups do, not us. I have a career to pursue, and so do you."

"I have a career," Clark told her, "the job description includes flying around and saving people."

"Well, a career you'll get paid for."

"Ah."

"Third…" Chloe took a breath. "You don't love me, Clark. Not in the romantic sense, anyway. And, while I was in love with you for half a decade, I'm doing my best to get over it. "

"But there's no reason for you to 'get over it', Chloe," said Clark. "Actually, it's the other way around. We'll get married and have that happy ending you once said you want."

"Are you in love with me, Clark?" asked Chloe. She knew the answer, but wanted to force him to acknowledge it.

He looked away from her for the first time. "I'm not sure," he said at last.

She knew the answer, but it still hurt. Not as much as it did two years ago, but it did.

"I rest my case." She rested her hands in her lap and swallowed. There was a lump in her throat.

"But I don't want to lose you, either." Clark said to her.

Chloe coughed to clear her throat. "You're not about to lose me, Clark. That's a stupid thing to think. I don't want to lose you, either. I told you, we'll call it temporary insanity, and move on."

"And one day you'll meet someone, fall in love, get married, have kids, and there will be no place for me in your life." Clark said bitterly. "And I'll lose the only girl who can understand me and not care where I came from or what I can do."

"Or you can meet a great girl, fall in love with her, tell her your secret, and live happily ever after. That won't happen if we get married."

Clark had on that martyr expression Chloe hated. A sad smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"Sure, Chloe. Then that great girl will get upset, because I'm never home. Or she'll believe one of those so-called articles in the Inquisitor about me - you know the ones I'm talking about - and think I've been cheating on her all along. Or that she'd just freak out one day because it would finally come to her that she's married to an alien."

Chloe nodded. The Inquisitor, and every other rag in the world, saw a duty to itself to publish women's – and sometimes men's – "confessions" about their intimate encounter with Superman. It occurred to Chloe that she had just fulfilled the fantasy of millions of people all over the world. If they only knew.

"So basically, you want to marry me because I'm easy to handle." said Chloe. " You know what? I can understand that. Your job is hard enough without the constant fear of those scenarios."

She saw Clark opening his mouth to answer, but went on. "But I'll be stuck with a husband that is not in love with me, and I'll have that constant fear that one day you'll fly away from me." The lump in her throat was back. She rose abruptly, turning her head away from him, and almost ran to the door.

Wind again, and Clark stood in front of her. She blinked hard a few times and gave him a steady look. "You know those tricks don't impress me, Clark." She told him. She wanted nothing more than to escape Clark's presence, run back to her room, and hide under the blanket.

"I had my hopes," he said. He reached out and held her gently by the shoulders. "Just promise me to think it through, ok? You'll see I'm right."

Chloe shook her head, "I doubt it." she replied. She removed his hands and went to the door. "You'll come to your senses in a few days and see _I'm_ right"

He shook his head. "I doubt it."

Five minutes later she was climbing up the stairs to the second floor of theValenberg dorms. She tiptoed to room 101 (that number always made her think of _1984_), stuck the key into its hole, and silently opened the door, only to find Naomi wide awake, reading a book.

"Chloe!" exclaimed Naomi, slamming down her book and getting out of bed, "Why didn't you call? I was about to send the campus security to look after you!"

"I was at Clark's room," began Chloe, but couldn't go on. Sobbing, she went to sit on her bed.

"Chloe?" Naomi sounded unsure and alarmed. "What happened? Did he hurt you?"

Chloe shook her head. Naomi pulled a tissue from the box on the nightstand and handed it to her.

"No," Chloe said at last, "I think we both made a pretty good job of hurting each other, for a change. A mutual effort."

Naomi didn't ask any more questions, but went to the refrigerator and produced a Mars bar, which she handed to Chloe. Chloe accepted in grateful silence, unwrapped it and took a bite.

"Naomi, remember that you said something about chocolate and bad movies?" she asked at last.

"Best way to get over someone," answered Naomi.

"I think I might have to borrow Glitters."

_Author's note: _

Well, I'm back! Thanks, as always, to my beta readers, **_Last Scorpion_** and **_The Die Hard_**.

The story, as you noticed, went completely AU, because of the fifth season. I hope you'll stick around, because writing this is like pulling teeth, and I need reviews to keep me going. If I won't get them, I'll realize nobody is reading, and there will be Lexana! I'm warning ya! God, Clana sex is so discouraging.

The future history part at the beginning was modeled after a similar part from _Dune_, btw. So if it looks a little odd, blame Frank Herbert.


	5. Life of Clark

**Author's note:**

Thanks - as always, to my beta readers, **_Last Scorpion_** and **_The Die Hard_**.

**Warning - this chapter contains religion-related issues. If you are easily offended, please do not read. **

Reviews - you review, I write. I think that's fair enough.

* * *

_"Young River says that the Alliance 'meddle' with the outer worlds' affairs, and we are suppose to think that this is a bad thing. I don't think so. I think that if the Independents were more willing to accept the Alliance authority, they would have been better off…"_

**An excerpt from** **Clark Kent's _Serenity_ DVD review.**

_"…above all, he has the divine force of flying! No Earth-born man is able to perform such a miracle!"_ The speaker said into the microphone, spreading his arms and making wide gestures for emphasis.

Clark leaned closer to Chloe's ear "At least he got the 'Earth-born' part right," he murmured.

"Shh," she whispered, "I want to listen."

The old lady who sat next to them made a "tsk-tsk" voice with her tongue, shaking her head in disapproval. By the look on her face, it was certain she considered them to be members of the Antichrist's minions. Chloe turned her attention to the stage again.

_"He does good deeds and asks nothing in return!" _the speaker continued_ **'I seek not mine own glory!'** Our lord's son did not ask for fame and fortune at the first time he walked among us, and not this time, either! He is beyond such pettiness!"_

Poor Men's Pat Robertson got that right, too, thought Chloe. For Clark, saving the world was an honest day's job. Honest _volunteering _day job. It was very hard to fall out of love with such a guy, even after watching every Jennifer Lopez movie ever made and Battlefield Earth, too. They didn't talk about what happened ever since – as she had expected – but the tension was there again, after a short, golden period of time when their friendship was comfortable for the first time since they were fifteen. Chloe hoped they would be back to normal, eventually, despite Clark's bruised male ego.

"I have to go," whispered Clark. Chloe nodded at him in understanding. He got up, earned himself another shake of the head from the old lady, and made his way out as fast as he could without super-speeding.

And there he goes to save the day again, she thought, following him with her eyes till he closed the lecture's hall's door behind him. He spent the last hour flinching and moving uncomfortably in his chair, listening to Poor Men's Pat Robertson's speech about Superman as the new-and-improved Jesus. Chloe had a good time watching him, and that lecture would make for another article by the Sullivan-Kent team at the _Kansan_. She was sure Clark cheated at their coin-flipping so that her name would come first, but couldn't prove it. She looked around her so she could register the audience's reactions for later use. Most of them looked fascinated with the speaker's vivid description of the war and famine that were to come, proving yet again that people were awfully fond of bad things happening to other people. They were sure that they would be among the lucky 144,000 'true believers' to be taken up to sit next to God's throne (of course God had a throne) any time now. In Chloe's opinion, God had better sense than taking up people who 'tsk-tsk-ed' at other people.

_"…and I'm telling you, that Jesus Christ has returned to this sinful earth to save His children!"_

Would those people keep on hoping year after year? wondered Chloe, or will they understand at last that Superman does not equal their sainted saviour, and that the Rapture wasn't going to happen any time soon? She doubted that. They'll just keep on hoping. Perhaps they'd end up deciding that Superman was actually the dreadful Antichrist. The funny part was that either way, Clark had nothing to do with it. It all took place in people's minds.

Chloe checked her watch and saw there were still twelve minutes left. Now that she didn't have Clark as entertainment, she was bored out of her mind. It was her journalistic duty to see this to the end, just in case anything smart would be said, which seemed unlikely. Chloe had the urge to climb on her chair and yell 'I slept with Superman!' just to see their reaction. The speaker went on and on about hell fire. Chloe was sorry she didn't eat more at lunch.

Finally it was over. Clark was not back yet, and Chloe closed her laptop and put it in her bag, making her way out of the hall with the rest of the crowd.

Still there was no sign of Clark, which was a relief, because she didn't have to deal with the odd tension again. It was the first time they'd seen each other since the…Chloe preferred to call it the 'incident'.

She turned and walked to the bus station – she left her bug at the university's parking lot, since the price of gas just kept going up. Besides, she was saving for a new laptop (she was always saving for a new laptop). Chloe was going to spend the evening alone with her current laptop, trying to hack the university database. It was good practice.

* * *

_"Always look on the bright side of life…"_

**Monty Python, _Life of Brian_, 1979  
**

"Clark, what would you have done if it was Naomi that came through the door instead of me?" asked Chloe. She just entered room 101 to find Clark sitting on her bed. He straightened when he saw her, and passed a hand through his mass of unkempt hair.

He had on what Chloe called his other uniform: jeans, plaid shirt and a blue jacket.

She was tired of the day and the travelling in the bus, and now Clark's presence was making her very nervous. She tried to pass her nervousness off as annoyances. He really shouldn't come flying through the window whenever he feels like it. It used to be ok, but with all that happened…they shouldn't be in the same room together on their own.

"I X-rayed the door, Chloe. If Naomi was behind it, I would have gone through the window." answered Clark, as if to a child.

"Whatever," said Chloe. She wasn't in a mood to argue with him about secrecy, nor did she want to hear him patronizing her. She changed the subject when she remembered why he had left earlier.

"Got there in time?" she asked, trying to keep the distance between them by sitting herself on the edge of Naomi's bed, far from Clark as possible.

"Yes." He didn't smile, but he did look pleased. "Everything's ok."

"Great," she smiled at him.

"Sometimes I love this job," Clark said in a low voice.

"And sometimes?" asked Chloe.

"Sometimes I wonder if I did the right thing. I could have just gone on with anonymous rescues…back in Smallville I didn't need a costume, or a nickname, or too much publicity."

"Clark, we've already been through that," Chloe told him. She felt the illogical sting of guilt. If she hadn't come up with the idea…but it's not like they had much of a choice. She remembered how Clark had wanted primary colours for his costume as well, and she had to put her foot down on _that_. Clark really hadn't picked any of Lex' fashion sense during their entire friendship. Maybe it was for the best. People assumed that nobody but a farm boy would wear plaid so often, and didn't look any farther.

"I know," he said, "but look what happened. It's even worse than the hero thing. Now they think of me as a Messiah! Have you heard that preacher? He wants me to be responsible for elimination of one-third of the Earth population, and God knows what else. Maybe there was a good reason for my parents to insist on low profile."

"Clark, you can fly. I doubt 'low profile' is possible in your case, pun not intended. Sooner or later someone would have understood you're more than an urban legend."

"And I couldn't have rescued half the people I did"

"That's right," agreed Chloe. "It was the best move possible," she assured him and herself.

"So, how do I convince people I'm not the carpenter from Nazareth?"

"Well," Chloe said, "you did spend a lot of time in a barn…"

"Chloe!" exclaimed Clark.

"Ok, ok," she grinned. "Just trying to cheer you up."

"Hmmph," grumbled Clark.

"Clark," Chloe said seriously, "I don't think there's anything you can do against that kind of people. They believe what they want to believe. You, or your alter-ego, have nothing to do with that."

"There _must _be something I can do," said Clark. "I feel like shouting _'I'm not the messiah!'_ and I know they will answer _I say you are Lord, and I should know. I've followed a few.'_ When did my life become a Monty Python movie?"

He really had a great memory, thought Chloe, and he was right, his situation was a lot like that of Brian. Actually, it was worse – Clark had proven that he was able to do things no other person could. It made sense, in a twisted way, to believe in him. People called for Superman, and he answered.

"Maybe I should step forward," murmured Clark. "Tell the world it's just the different sun radiation that gives me my abilities. I'll tell everything to the world, save the Kryptonite vulnerability part, and hope for the best."

"I think you'll be about as successful as Brian in that," said Chloe. Certain people might even be mad at him for 'ruining the magic'. After all, Keats was upset with Newton for explaining how rainbows were created. For Chloe, the explanation was the best part of everything –unexplained phenomenon were meant to be explored till successfully explained.

"They'll say that _only the true Messiah denies His divinity'_" sighed Clark.

"Did I mention that your memory is way too good?" asked Chloe.

"Just once or twice. Or ten times." Clark answered. "Chloe…"

Was he about to talk about the subject they avoided so well until now? Chloe wondered.

"…maybe it's time for me to give that interview all the papers are after for the last six months, " Clark finished.

Chloe released the breath she didn't know she was holding. That was a topic that they could _reasonably_ discuss.

"I thought you didn't want any more publicity," she pointed out. They had agreed, before he made his first public appearance as Superman, that the less the people know about him, the better.

"I don't," replied Clark in an isn't-it-obvious tone, "but I might have to."

"And why is that?"

"Because Lex is running for the House of Representatives." Clark's jaw tightened. "He wants to represent the 20th district."

_Oh_, thought Chloe. Wasn't Lex on their topics-not-to-be-discussed list? It was a short, yet significant list. A list that included Lana, marriage proposals, and Lex.

"I've read about it at the _Planet_…and I don't think it's such a bad idea," Chloe said carefully. When a person manages to keep you alive for three months after your supposed 'death', you come to respect, if not to like, him. Lex wasn't Mr. Smith goes to Washington, but he was decent enough. For a politician, anyway.

Clark stared at her in disbelief. "You don't think it's such a bad idea?" he repeated.

"Well, there's less of a chance he'd be bribed," said Chloe. Clark looked as if he was about to combust." Without him, there would have been hardly any rebuilding in Smallville. Most of the insurance companies weren't willing to pay anything. He gave loans in extremely comfortable terms," Chloe finished. If this continued, she thought, not only would Clark not ask her to marry him again, he wouldn't even talk to her. Maybe she should go for it.

"So he would own the entire town," said Clark. He appeared like he was trying to decide whether he should be surprised, angry, righteous, or all of the above.

"He already does. He's the biggest employer, and he owns the saving& loans bank. He pretty much owned Smallville, even before the shower."

"And get credit for being the town's savior. It's a great way to start your political career. It's not like he expects nothing in return."

Chloe had to agree on that one. She nodded, "that's true, but that just makes him a good politician. Look, Clark, I'm not saying you should be best friends all over again. All I'm saying is that you should wait a little bit before revealing details the world might be able to use against you." Sometimes trying to be objective wasn't a pleasant task. Chloe felt fifteen again and supporting Paul against Clark at the class presidency elections. Well, somebody had to.

Clark looked frustrated. "What am I supposed to do, Chloe? Sit back and watch Lex gaining even more power? I have influence; we both saw that. I might as well use it."

"Would he be worse than most politicians?"

"I don't know any other politicians," Clark replied in annoyance, "how should I know?"

"Exactly. You have no idea what they are like, in comparison with Lex. The Kennedy family had connection with the Mafia; Nixon had Watergate and who knows what else. Lex' investigations of you, and even those experiments of his that went wrong, look pretty innocent in comparison." It was obvious that Clark didn't share that point of view with her, she thought.

"Lionel Luthor had connections with organized crime, too."

"Lionel Luthor is dead." Chloe stopped for a moment as she shuddered, "it's Lex we're talking about."

"Lex knows my secret," said Clark, who'd apparently decided to change his tactics.

"Well, _that _was inevitable," said Chloe. She didn't add 'and you were a fool for not telling him to begin with.' If Clark would have told Lex…perhaps things would have gone differently. "Lex keeps your secret," she said instead. Lex knew most of the secret anyway, Chloe thought. He just wanted to be told.

"He enjoys holding a sword above my head," said Clark bitterly. "He can call a press conference whenever he feels like it, and my life as I know it would be over. I think he's just waiting for the right moment, when he can gain the most out of it. "

That was a possibility, thought Chloe. Unfortunately, there was nothing either she or Clark could do about it. They could threaten to reveal some of his father's shady business, but those secrets were nothing in comparison to Clark's.

"So basically, what you want to do is to ruin your life before Lex does? There will be no Clark Kent anymore, only Superman. You won't be able to graduate, get a job, live a normal life. Nothing. No offense, Clark, but that's kind of idiotic." She noticed that Clark looked a little bit hurt by her last remark. Well, it _was_ an idiotic thing to do. Again, being a truth-teller sucked. On the other hand, they weren't discussing the other topics on the not-to-be-discussed list.

Clark, now that her remark had time to sink in on him, looked a little taken aback by the scenario she had drawn.

"I just don't want to sit and wait for Lex to strike first."

"Perhaps he won't," said Chloe. "Perhaps he's keeping your secret for old time's sake."

"Perhaps," murmured Clark, who didn't look too convinced.

Ok, thought Chloe. Now it was time to exit the scene, before another topic would come up. There was always hope Clark understood the whole thing was a bad idea, and was never going to mention it again, but just in case, she wanted to be someplace else.

"Ah, Clark, I just remembered," Chloe said as she grabbed both her long coat and her bag at the same time, "I promised to meet Dan at the paper in," she made a big deal of checking her watch, "eleven minutes."

"Isn't it a little late?" asked Clark.

"Not for Dan," replied Chloe.

"Chloe…" said Clark, but Chloe was already closing the door behind her. She went down the stairs in a run, and stopped only when she was at the bottom of the staircase, where she caught her breath. She was a coward, Chloe told herself, postponing the inevitable, but at the moment she was willing to live with the title. She went outside the building, the cold air reminding her she still had her coat hanging from her arm. She put it on and wondered what to do next. Maybe it _was_ a good idea to go and check what was going on at the _Kansan_.

* * *

_"Ad Astra Per Aspera," (To the Stars Through Difficulties) -_

_**Kansas state motto**_

There was no one at the _Kansan_ meeting room when Chloe entered, but she did see light coming from the little pit Dan liked to call his office. An interview with Clark would have gotten her that pit, freshman or not. Hell, an interview with Clark would have gotten her a job at the _Planet._

"Who's there?" she heard Dan's tired voice. He sounded tired. High school, college or the _Times_, paper editors were always tired.

"It's me, Chloe," she answered.

"What are you doing here so late?" Dan asked when she entered his niche. He sat in front of his laptop, but appeared to be daydreaming, or was it evening dreaming?

"I used to be my high school newspaper editor once…old habits die hard and all that, you know. Guess I wanted to see if everything's ok." She finished lamely.

"Well, if you're already here, have a seat." Dan waved towards the only other chair in the place. Chloe moved the chair so she could close the door, then sat down.

"I was going to give this assignment to somebody else," Dan said, rubbing his eyes, "but then I remembered you come from Littleville,"

"Smallville," Chloe corrected automatically.

"Never mind. I assume you know that Lex Luthor is running in the upcoming elections."

Know. Hah.

"You want me to interview him?" Was that good, or bad? She wasn't even sure Lex would want to see her. She wasn't sure she wanted to see him.

"You got it. Call his office, try to arrange an interview. Have you ever met him, by any chance?"

You could say that.

"I've seen him around town," she answered.

"Good enough. Let me know how it goes"

Dan and his assignment solved the problem Chloe had difficulties with for a while now. It was definitely time to go and see Lex.


	6. Lex

**Thanks:** My beta readers, **_Last Scorpion_** and **_The Die Hard,_** and all the reviewers.

**No thanks:** stupid yeast genes that have no homologs in mammals, genes that have too many homologs in mammals, and people who think that grades are everything.

**_Note:_** this is a sort of third season Chloe-Lex relationship. Not the horrible mess of seasons 4-5.

* * *

_"...Even without the infamous car accident, Lex Luthor would have become the center of interest in the seemingly quiet town of Smallville. He occupied the huge Scottish castle his father claimed to belong to his family of old. That statement, of course, was so loaded with bitter irony._

_Lex wasn't liked at first in Smallville. People who owned land, like Jonathan Kent, were wary of him because of the other farmers who were unfortunate enough to do business with his father. Others considered thefertilizer plant the mainsourceof all the weird occurrences around town._

_Eventually, people warmed up to him – as became evident when he won the State Senate race. It was the first in a long line of political victories…"_

**Chloe Sullivan, "Destiny Shock – The Farm Boy Turns Superhero", Unpublished Notes**

Chloe looked up through the car window, to the very top of the ninety-six floor Luthor building. Most of it was dark at that hour of the evening. Her belly shrank a bit, letting her know it didn't favor the idea of being so close to that place again.

A primitive part of her wondered if the elder Luthor's ghost was haunting the place. Surely Lionel Luthor wouldn't let things get out of his control just because of the mere inconvenience of being six feet under? He was probably there, leaning over his son's shoulder, or floating just above his head, whispering to Lex he was doomed to fail.

Stop it, she commanded her belly. The well-dressed psycho wasn't there anymore, and her resentment of the place itself was stupid. She took another bite of her energy bar, washing it down with a sip from the latte in her other hand.

Besides, her chances of entering the building were slim. When she called to make an appointment, she was promptly told that Mr. Luthor was too busy with his election campaign to give interviews to college papers. So now, having borrowed Naomi's car instead of her very red, conspicuous bug, she was lurking outside the LuthorCorp building for the last three hours, hoping that Lex would appear. Finally, he did. Sleek, bald head, body clad in black, coming out of the building at eight-thirty in the evening. Lex Luthor, the ultimate over-achiever.

She opened the door of the car, slammed it and ran. "Lex!" she called, "wait!"

Lex stopped and turned. She finally reached him, breathing hard, and pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

"Chloe," he said. "It's been a while."

"Yes," she agreed, trying to catch her breath.

"We haven't met since my father's funeral, if I remember correctly."

Chloe nodded. She eyed him. Still impossibly sexy - not that she expected anything else. The long, black jacket, that walk…Lex had a place of honor in her fantasy to-do list, right after Keanu Reeves. But not today. She wasn't sure how to begin the conversation; 'I need an interview, but the real reason I came to talk to you is because I need you to make amends with the former friend who lied to you'. Ok, that didn't sound too good. The key word here was 'subtle'.

"Why were you there, Chloe?" asked Lex, "Did you come to make sure he was in his grave at last? There's no need to be ashamed. I know that was what I was there for."

Chloe felt the blush covering her cheeks. You weren't supposed to be happy when people died, even if they were world-class bastards, but really, there should be an exception for cases like Lionel Luthor. The man had poisoned his own son's scotch on a semi- regular basis, for heaven's sake. She would have spat on his grave at the funeral, but the metaphorical line was too long.

"I was hoping for an interview," she said to Lex.

"I thought my secretary made clear I do not have time for an interview," said Lex, checking his watch. "I have a campaign to run."

"Isn't PR-ing like mad part of every campaign? I would have expected you to give an interview to Bakerline elementary school at this point, just in case any of the parents would read it."

"Somehow I doubt that the eager ten-year old from Bakerline elementary school will ask me those questions you have in mind, Chloe."

"Got something to hide, Lex?" The world's most rhetorical question. The Luthors' family closet contained enough skeletons to meet Kansas' Halloween requirements for the next century.

"Let's just say I'm interested in favorable press at the moment, Chloe. You never fitted that category, not even in our first interview."

Was that amusement she heard in his voice?

"Do I have a 'Fox News' tag on my jacket, Lex? I'm not in the reporting business to give anybody an easy time."

"And I have not entered politics to give college journalists an opportunity to go up the ladder at my expense."

"What _are _you in politics for, Lex?"

Lex's smile, or his smirk, was thin. "For a better future to the Sunflower state, of course."

"Sure, Lex. Once you'll become senator, we'll have flowery meadows and chocolate rivers where children will dance and play," said Chloe. She could tell from his face that he didn't recognize the (paraphrased) Team America quote.

"You've already made up your mind about me, Chloe." Lex turned to leave.

"Yes, I did," said Chloe. Lex took a step toward his car. "I think you'll make a very good politician." What had he thought she'd say? That she considered him a moustache-twirling criminal mastermind? Could Lex even grow a moustache?

Lex turned to her again, trying to keep his face expressionless. He wasn't fooling her – if you knew how to read them, his eyes spoke volumes.

"And do you know why?"

"Please, enlighten me," he said.

"Because you want people to remember you. You want to go down in the history books as a great man, and that Lionel Luthor to be remembered as _your_ father. And, just maybe, there's a part of you who wants to make this world a better place. Not that I expect you to admit it or anything."

Lex studied her from head to toe. He seemed to be making up his mind.

"How about dinner?" he asked.

"Does that mean I'll get an interview?" Chloe asked.

"No, that means I just invited you to dinner. For such a bright young woman, you're a bit slow to process such a simple offer," Lex began walking towards his sports car.

"Coming?" He asked over his shoulder.

Chloe took a moment to roll her eyes, then hurried to join him.

* * *

_"…We were never friends, Lex and I. We respected one another, but friendship was beyond our reach - we were too much alike, and we understood each other too well…"_

**Chloe Sullivan, Private Diaries, Unpublished.**

The restaurant was one of those places where one _had_ to be born to the right class – the one with money - to know which fork to use. Luckily, they sat in a small, private meeting room, so if she'd screw up, it would be between her and Lex. Chloe wondered if Lex brought her there to the too-expensive restaurant to intimidate her.

If so, he picked the wrong girl. She stared hard at the French-written menu and ordered in random, hoping it won't turn out to be some poor frog's legs. She was pretty sure she found the source of the Americans' contempt for the French people – no self-respecting American would eat _frogs_.

Lex, of course, had no such problems. He said something in French to the head waiter, who took both their menus and disappeared with a slight bow.

"I wanted to thank you for that glowing recommendation you gave to my dad," said Chloe. She avoided mentioning 'after you made him another pawn in the game with your father, though he helped you buy the factory and ran it loyally for you.'

Lex apparently had the same thought going in his mind, but he returned her civility. "The least I could do. I would have been glad to have him back at the fertilizer plant, but I can understand him wanting to start afresh."

'Wanted to start afresh.' Her dad hadn't been able to find a job for a year and a half after Lex fired him, until Lionel Luthor's death. Lex, indeed, offered him his old job at the factory once Lionel was safely behind bars, but Gabe Sullivan had had enough of Luthors, and ended up taking a job in Anchorage, Alaska. They'd only seen each other twice since then. Chloe decided to drop the small talk.

"Lex…" Chloe began "I didn't really come for an interview."

Lex arched an eyebrow.

"I mean, I _am_ interested in an interview, and so is my editor, but I have more important things to talk to you about." Chloe tried to clear the situation.

"Go on," said Lex.

"I'm here to talk about Clark," said Chloe.

"Obviously," said Lex, "since you didn't tell me the truth to begin with. Clark must be rubbing off on you."

That didn't sound like the forgive-and-forget Chloe had hoped for.

"Lex, please. Will you at least hear me out?"

Lex leaned backwards and looked at her with a deliberate lack of interest. What did he think? That if he'd show interest, she'd price her words higher?

"You and he are very much alike, you know." Chloe said.

She could see the surprise behind his eyes. "I'm not sure whether it's a compliment or an insult."

"Neither. It's just an observation."

"An observation," repeated Lex, and she wasn't sure whether he mocked her or not.

"I know it may not seem like that at the moment,"

"It doesn't."

"But I can point out at least one thing you have in common: both of you can't let a girl finish her sentence."

Lex was quiet for a moment. Did that mean she won the first round of that year's verbal judo championship?

They should really do that more often, perhaps sell tickets. _**Watch** _the spunky blond wannabe journalist pressing the cynical bald billionaire against the wall! **_Hear_ **them as they try to outwit each other!

Now they were both quiet, because Chloe wasn't sure how to go on.

"I just wanted to say you'll both be better off if you just work out your major issues with each other. You used to be friends."

Lex' eyes narrowed. "'Used to'" is the key phrase here, Chloe."

"Friendship is based on trust, and ours severely lacked that. Who knew an innocent farm boy could have so much to hide, and how willing he would be to lie to keep certain things hidden?"

"Trust can be regained," said Chloe. "I regained Clark's after what happened with your father. It wasn't easy, but we managed."

Lex seemed unimpressed.

"Yes, you managed. You begged over and over again for his forgiveness until, like a true hero, he was gracious enough to grant it. How noble of him."

"It took him some time," Chloe said, slowly, "but then again, I had betrayed him. I didn't 'beg'."

Lex shrugged, "No, you didn't beg. All you did was to turn yourself into SuperChloe, best friend ever, no matter how badly he'd hurt your feelings. You've always been there for him."

Chloe swallowed. The taste in her throat was bitter, and the food hadn't even been served.

"Also, I remember that Clark wasn't without blame at the matter. Getting together with the girl you considered your best friend behind your back."

"Two wrongs don't make a right," answered Chloe. Lex was about to reply, but closed his mouth as the door opened and a waiter entered the room. They sat in silence until the dishes were served and the door was closed again.

"It doesn't matter what happened between me and Clark," said Chloe. "The subject is yours and Clark's friendship. I know it will take you a while to regain each other's trust…"

"You can't regain what never existed, Chloe," said Lex. Was that sadness in his voice? Did he miss what might-have-been?

"Come on, Lex. What did you expect? That Clark, immediately after he had pulled you out of that car, would say 'hi, I'm Clark Kent, your friendly super-powered neighbor!'?"

"No," said Lex, "but I can't forget how, whenever I asked him about all those weird occurrences around him, he looked me in the eye, each time, and lied straight to my face. We were friends the way you're friends with an ATM machine. He rescued me from harm, and I paid handsomely for the service."

"I just found another thing you have in common," said Chloe. "You're both terribly over-melodramatic. Of course he lied to you, just like he did to everyone else, because his parents installed that secrecy chip inside his brain, and for a good reason. The world is full of people who would have been thrilled to take advantage of him – like your father - and they were trying to protect him. He _had_ to lie. He still has to."

A shade of bitterness passed over Lex's face.

"The Kents always thought they knew what's best for all of us, didn't they? They considered themselves salt of the earth, or should I say, cream of the corn. Yet Jonathan Kent was the one who convinced the Rosses to sell my father the cream corn factory, and Martha Kent worked as his assistant. They were never above taking his money or help – or my own - but were nonetheless positive they had the right to pass judgment on everything and everyone."

"They thought they were doing what's best for Clark," Chloe answered.

Lex had that nasty habit of being right, she thought, and though she always considered the late Kents to be good, honest people, she had to admit he had a point. The Kents had made their share of mistakes, but they didn't own them. However, they demanded Lex to pay twice as much for all his sins, and even more for his father's.

"They weren't perfect, I'll give you that, but they tried," she said, "and I think they did quite well. After all, they raised a great, selfless hero," said Chloe. She eyed him.

"What's so amusing?" she asked. Lex looked like he was actually about to laugh, and she didn't even know if he was able to. His father could laugh - a fake, hollow laughter, but she had never heard Lex laugh.

"A selfless hero, Chloe? You are wonderfully naïve. Always have been. Despite everything, you keep believing people can act out of the goodness of their hearts."

"It's not 'people' in general that I believe that act out of the goodness of their hearts. It's Clark we're talking about. You know, the guy who flies around and spends most of his time saving people who would have been dead otherwise?"

"Oh, I don't disagree with that," answered Lex. "He saves people. I just don't think he does that out of the goodness of his heart."

"So come on, give me a better reason," told him Chloe.

"Try guilt," said Lex. "He wasn't there in time to save his parents, and he's trying to make up for it. Or even better reasons – he does it for the glory. And power. He has Jay Leno laughing at his hair, and every kid wants to dress up as Superman for Halloween. Right now, he's more powerful than any other person on Earth, and not just physically."

"You're jealous," said Chloe. She stared straight into his eyes and waited. Lex was after power and influence, always, and he wanted what Clark had.

Lex didn't deny her accusation. "He's the ultimate power, Chloe. And sooner or later, he will take advantage that power."

"Thank you, Jeremiah. Or should I say Cassandra?"

Lex drank deeply from his wine before he continued.

"What is Clark's favorite book, Chloe?" he asked.

"You know the answer," she said.

"Humor me," said Lex.

"Weren't you the one who _gave_ him that_ Starship Troopers_ book?"

"I gave him half his library, Chloe. Why isn't his favorite book _1984_, or _Common Sense_? _Starship Troopers_ is one of those rare books that consider dictatorship a legitimate way to run the world."

"Come on, Lex. Lots of people like that book. It won one of those science fiction Oscars."

"A Hugo," corrected Lex, proving again that under the expensive clothes, he was a geek at heart, "and none of those people ever had the power Clark possesses, to mold the world to their preferences."

"Get to the point, Lex. What do you think he'll do with that tremendous power you're speaking of?" Chloe knew she was being rude, but she rejected what Lex had just said with all her heart. Lex was talking about the things he would have done if he had Clark's power, she told herself. Clark was different.

"Well, it was one of you journalists who said that _'The urge to save humanity is almost always only a false-face for the urge to rule It.'"_quoted Lex. "I assume he'll become a ruler of a kind."

"Mencken was a hopeless cynic," answered Chloe, "and Clark doesn't want to rule anything or anyone. All he wants is a quiet life. You're mixing your desires with his."

"But you said so yourself, we are very much alike," Lex shot back at her, and promptly won the verbal judo round.

"I'll take the guilt argument you mentioned earlier – Clark always feels guilty about every thing," said Chloe. Especially about his parents' death.

It wasn't that he hasn't gotten there in time; it was the Kryptonite that kept him from getting to them. She had found him on the ground near the house, and he almost died himself trying to reach them.

"but not the ruling part. I can't imagine Clark wanting to rule anyone. That's the part where you're not alike."

Lex ignored the insult – she wasn't even sure he considered it an insult – and brought a fork full of food to his mouth. They sat in silence as he chewed and swallowed.

"No, he doesn't. For now," Said Lex, "but he's impulsive and lacks in patience. He sees every day more of the bad side of humanity than most people see in a life time. Rape, murder, poverty…do you really think he'll be able to stay neutral for long?"

"Clark obeys the law, Lex," said Chloe, who remembered, to her discomfort, several occasions in which her statement had been proved wrong.

"Sure. Till he loses his patience. Remember the mind-reader kid?"

"Ryan," said Chloe, "he was kept at the Summerholt Institute against his will, they were hurting him…Clark had to act," she ended weakly.

"That's right. And, once he decided to act, nobody was able to stop him. Not even his parents. I believe that eventually he will act the same way, only on a global level."

Lex shook his head, and she thought he looked awfully tired at that moment.

_"'Corruptio optimi pessima', _Chloe," quoted Lex. "'Corruption of the best becomes the worst.' He will fall, no matter what I do, and I want nothing to do with that. Mark my words."

"I'll add them to My Favorites" answered Chloe.

"He won't, Lex" she said, in a softer voice. "His parents' deaths was his wake-up call. He'll go on doing exactly what he does right now."

"Perhaps," said Lex, his voice skeptical. "If that would happen, I will be more than glad to be proven wrong."

"If you really think he's that big a threat to society, why won't you expose him?"

"What would I benefit from that? Knowledge is power, Chloe. And power is something I do not share. I can think of better ways to spend my time than to see the world worshipping at the farm boy altar. Superman's altar is bad enough."

Because they love him the way they would never love you? Chloe asked in silence.

"Or maybe you just want to prove to him that you could have kept his secret," she said out loud, and from the way Lex' eyes narrowed a bit, she could guess it was at least part of the answer.

It wasn't going to work, thought Chloe, as she realized nothing could make amends between Lex and Clark. Lex had wanted the truth, Clark denied it, and their friendship – if you could ever call it that – went downhill.

She got up. "Thanks for dinner, Lex. If you change your mind – you know where we are. I'll find my own way to my car."

Lex nodded. "Good-bye, Chloe," he said.

"Good-bye," she replied. "Good luck with the elections."

_"What we obtain too cheap, we esteem too lightly…it would be strange indeed if so celestial an article as FREEDOM should not be highly rated."_

Thomas Paine, _The Crisis, _as quoted at the opening of chapter six of Robert Heinlein's _Starship Troopers._

"_…Lex knew before any of us did…including Clark himself. He knew about the passion for power and the exertion of it, and how addictive that could get. I once told him that he and Clark were very much alike. I had no idea how right I had been, back then. _

_Did Ethan ever have a hint of what's to come? I hope not. He believed in Clark – not the blind faith of a believer in a Messiah, but a belief in a person's ability to rise above himself and do the right thing. Maybe that was the last straw. With Ethan gone, there was only me left to believe in Clark's ability to tell the difference between right and wrong, and I guess that just wasn't enough…" _

**Chloe Sullivan, "Destiny shock – The Farm Boy Turns Superhero", Unpublished Notes**

**Author's long note: **

Well, it's been a long time! But here's the new chapter, and I hope you enjoyed it.

Explanations: Bakerline is a part of the Superman's comics Metropolis. _Common Sense_ is one of Tom Paine's books.

If you wonder why Chloe quoted from Mencken at the first part– well, the poor girl has been through a lot, and that had made her somewhat of acynic, as well (though not as much as Mencken – I don't think _anybody_ can be that cynical).

Please note that I'm talking all the time about _Starship Troopers_, the book, not the Parody of a movie (it was a good parody, but still).

Ethan: I referred to him at the first chapter, and hope to introduce him at chapter 7 or 8.

Thanks you all for reading.


	7. Ethan

_"It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single mutant in possession of freakish powers, must be in want of Smallville's princess, Lana Lang."_

**Chloe Sullivan, Personal Diaries, Unpublished.**

"How's Lana doing?" Chloe asked Clark.

"She's at the hospital again," answered Clark, "I really, _really_ hate that place. They look at both of us oddly."

"Well, that's kind of expected. I'm surprised they didn't name a wing after her by now, with all the insurance money she paid them," said Chloe. Clark didn't look amused, maybe because he just finished fighting yet another mutant. The ending was the usual kind: Belle Reve earned itself a new patient, and Lana was back in her regular room at the Smallville Medical Center.

"Why must every mutant in town stalk Lana?" asked Clark. "Is it some kind of law?" he went on, "maybe a side effect of the Kryptonite radiation?"

"Universal truth," murmured Chloe, "you can't beat those."

Mutants and Lana, Lana and mutants. From Bug Boy to Tina the shapeshifter and Byron the awful poet, all thought that Lana was the most wonderful thing since sliced bread. But Lana insisted on staying.

The right thing to do would be to drive to Smallville and try again to convince her but Chloe had grown weary of Lana lately. Part of it was the insult to Clark. Another part, the dawning realization that Lana wasn't the Best-Friend-Forever Chloe had imagined her to be. _You shall not date your friend's crush, darn it. _

"Did you try talking to her about moving out of Smallville? Clark, the town is dangerous for you, too. The place is full of Kryptonite, even more than it used to be during our freak-of-the-week youth."

"We didn't have a freak every week," said Clark. "Two or three a month at best".

"_Clark._"

"I tried. She won't leave her parents' graves."

Graves. Chloe was all for respect for the dead, but not when the next helpful mutant might turn you into a member of Club Graveyard (open 24-hours, recommended by every undead tourist guide).

"You're right about Smallville being dangerous," said Clark, "but everyone keeps pretending those meteorites are nothing but odd-colored rocks. Ostriches and bats are better capable of noticing all the weirdness in Smallville than the government. "

"Maybe they do," said Chloe.

"Then why do they sit and do nothing?"

"Because they're small politicians wanting to keep their jobs. Alarming the world about mutation-causing meteorites isn't high on their list. They don't want to join those friendly mutants over at Belle Reve."

Clark looked frustrated. He started saying something, closed his mouth, opened it again.

"Chloe…" he said, "there's something else?"

"Isn't there always?" Chloe asked. "What is it this time?"

"I talked to Lana at the hospital, after they admitted her, and…she wants us to try again."

Try again. Try Again? Ok. She must have heard wrong. Or maybe Clark meant 'try again to be friends'. Or something. He _did not _mean 'try again to be involved in a romantic relationship, a few weeks after I lost my virginity to and proposed to another girl'.

"_Oh_. What did you say?"

"I said…I'll think about it," Clark replied.

At least, she thought, he had the decency to look extremely uncomfortable. A guy should be uncomfortable when he thinks about getting back with a girl who considers him a freak.

And why did Lana want to get back with a guy she considered a freak? A nasty thought made its way to the front of Chloe's brain: Lana realized she wouldn't, physically, survive long without Clark. Having Superman as your boyfriend could be very helpful when you're stalkers' favorite.

"And…?" she asked, hugging her thighs and leaning her chin on her knees

He hesitated. "Do you think it's a good idea?"

Now that, she thought, was annoying. What did he expect her to say? 'That's great, Clark! I've been waiting all this time for you to run again on that hamster wheel. Why? Because I'm Superfriend Chloe - professional shoulder to cry on, comfort sex included.'

Ok, her level of cynicism had just surpassed the one of caffeine in her blood. Time to forget what Lex had so kindly pointed out for her and focus on Clark being a dumbass.

"You and Lana have been trying to get together since Whitney left," she said cautiously. "It never worked. I know there was your secret to consider, but you had five years, and even after you told her, you two never pulled it off. Perhaps the universe is trying to tell you something."

Clark frowned. Yes, he had definitely expected her to be supportive. If he'd say 'this time it'll be different,' she'd scream. She wondered if hamsters ever got tired of running on their wheel.

Mercifully, he spared her the cliché. Instead, he sat down. "You turned me down, Chloe. You have no right to stop me from having another relationship."

Somewhere inside Chloe's brain, tiny vesicles, carrying neurotransmitters, were secreted from synapses, announcing 'Dangerous Subject Alert!'

"Did you hear me say that you shouldn't have another relationship? All I said was that the one with Lana is getting kind of repetitive." Lana and Clark had tried getting together more times than Buffy staked vampires, but always ended up looking sadly at each other and walking away. Maybe they just loved the angst.

"You want normality," she went on, "but you're not normal." She watched Clark's face darkening.

"Don't you think I know that?" he said. Then he jumped up, and stayed in the air for a good 15 seconds, "I'm an advanced version of your average freak; you're just too good a friend to put me on your wall."

It was time for some tough love. "Clark, if this is going to turn into a pity party, I'm leaving."

"If you want to." His expression made her feel as if she had just kicked a puppy.

"I just want you to make up your mind. Five years seems enough time for anyone to make a decision."

"It's complicated."

"It usually is," Chloe agreed, "but make up you mindClark. For the sake of my sanity, if not yours." She stretched her legs, taking them off the bed, and got up.

"Let me know when you do," she said, grabbing her things and heading for the door, leaving a dumbstruck Clark behind.

_"The Ethan Lane Memorial Foundation awards 25 scholarships every year, for the best essays describing Superman's contribution to humanity. Essays should be submitted no later than 4/5/2012…"_

Chloe crossed the campus, not sure where she was heading, other than it was away from Clark's room. She took a deep breath of the sweet spring air. Konrad Lorentz and his goose, Lana and Clark. A frightening analogy. The five-year-old boy infatuation didn't fade only because Clark was now nineteen. He still had on his "Lana Blinders", as Pete put it back when they were all young and naïve and terribly melodramatic.

Guess she still tended toward the emotional drama, because she knew Clark was going to be miserable, and that made her miserable, too. She didn't want to watch him suffer, in a relationship that was all but happy. Clark may think she's jealous, but she had been jealous for a long, long time, till there wasn't much left.

There was the disappointment, of course. After all, Clark had proposed her, and she hoped that, in a way, it meant that he felt something for her in more than a best-friends way. But to Clark, Lana was the last remnant of normality in his life, and he wasn't ready to let her go.

Perhaps the thing between Clark and Lana was love. Chloe would be the first to admit she knew very little about the subject, and that was one thing you couldn't google or call the appropriate source for. She could imagine herself calling Chad and asking him how you know when it's real love. He'd probably shrug and say that when the sex was good, it was definitely it.

Wasn't love supposed to make you happy? Or was that just another false Hollywood concept? Like waking up in the morning with perfect hair and makeup, or drowning your sorrows in Ben & Jerry's and not getting fat.

She was standing in front of her dorm room, and she wasn't even sure how she got there. She started to go through her bag for the keys, when the door was opened, and Naomi grinned at her.

"I thought I heard you," she said, and then Chloe noticed she wasn't alone. He was wearing a long brown jacket, and he was leaning forward past her bed, his nose mere inches from her Wall of Weird.

"Oh, no," murmured Chloe under her breath, "I completely forgot."

She had planned on coming up with intelligent insights regarding the world today that were appropriate to drop 'accidentally' during the conversation with the Planet reporter. She had also planned to wash her hair.

He had straightened up while she had been thinking, and was looking at her curiously.

Naomi raised her eyebrows high, in a silent 'where have you been?'

"Sorry," whispered Chloe.

Naomi finally did the formal introduction. "Chloe Sullivan, meet Ethan Lane. Ethan, meet Chloe."

Ethan Lane. In her room. Checking her wall of weird. _Wow_.

"I was just showing Ethan your wall," said Naomi, in half apology. "I hope you don't mind."

Ethan Lane, war correspondent, looked surprisingly young, for a guy who spent the last years in an area of conflict. She was sure such places make people age faster, but Ethan didn't look more than twenty-five. He had a slight tan, and while he wasn't as tall as Clark (why was she comparing every man to Clark?), he was definitely past the 6' mark American men held so dear.

He smiled at her, and she could see dimples forming in his cheeks. True, his face wasn't sculptured the way Clark's was (she was doing it again) but he was good looking. Soil-colored hair and sky-blue eyes.

He was standing in front of her now, and she remembered her manners and stuck her hand out. He took it.

"Nice to meet you," Chloe said. Six-feet-two, eyes of blue, she mused.

"Same here," he said. He turned his head to the wall. "Interesting decoration. Naomi said you call it the Wall of Weird?"

"Yes," said Chloe, "I've had it – well, in certain versions – since I was thirteen. It started out as a scrapbook and just kind of mutated."

"Somehow," Ethan said, pointing at an article that featured a two-headed monkey, "mutated sounds like the right word for this wall."

Naomi reached for her jacket. "Sorry, guys, I have to go. Just remembered I promised Jeff I'll meet him for, uh, something."

"Didn't you say you'd dedicate the afternoon to show me what I have 'foolishly left behind in favor of war and famine'? I believe that was your exact quote," said Ethan.

Naomi shifted her weight from one foot to another. "Well," she said. "I'm sure that Chloe will be happy to show you around. See you!" And she was out the door.

Chloe and Ethan looked at each other, at the door, and each other again.

"I think Naomi just won the 'most obvious try for matchmaking' award," said Chloe. And that, she thought, was perfectly fine with her.

"I apologize. Usually our family is much more subtle than that when it comes to matchmaking. They force the two people inside an elevator and shut down the power."

"So Naomi's just following the family tradition?" said Chloe. That was a lame line, but her brain just presented her with a 'malfunction' notice on her inner computer screen.

Ethan shook his head. "Actually, no. Most of my family doesn't even have that level of semi-social skills. Naomi must have picked that up from those romances she used to read."

"Naomi read romances?" Chloe asked, her eyes widening. She was sure that Naomi wouldn't be caught dead, let alone alive, reading that kind of literature.

She usually launched herself into a long speech about why that sort of fiction was unrealistic and misleading for women (Chloe had her fair share of grudge toward romances – if life went the way romance novels did, Clark would have been head-over-heels in love with her by the time they were sixteen. Talk about false advertising).

"In her defense, she was _eleven_, and I'm glad to say that a few well-placed Lois Bujold books made her leave Harlequin behind."

"Who's Lois Bujold?" asked Chloe. Lois was a nice, somewhat old-fashioned, name, she thought.

Ethan made his way to Naomi's side of the room and scanned the shelves, then pointed at a series of books that caught probably half a shelf.

"She writes what you might call 'soft' science fiction," he said. "She concentrates more on people and society than technology."

"So you're a science fiction fan?" asked Chloe. That might explain the calm way he accepted her wall, very like his cousin. The first time Naomi entered the room, Chloe remembered, she already had her wall in place, and was slightly nervous about her roommate's reaction. Naomi looked at it for a long moment, said 'cool', and went to the business of unpacking her suitcases.

"I'm a Worldcon kid. It comes with the territory."

"_Worldcon_ kid?"

"Nerd by nature and nurture. My parents met at a science fiction convention called Worldcon. I was doomed from the start."

"Not many people would admit willingly they're 'nerds'." Especially those who didn't look like it, Chloe thought. But she was just being prejudiced, she said to herself with guilt.

"It's my secret identity," he smiled, showing his dimples again, "at day, a respectable war correspondent, at night, a SF/F fan."

"Ok, you've just proven yourself a nerd. Are you a historical nut as well?"

"I used to be pretty handy with a bow. Not that I get many opportunities to practice, nowadays," he said, passing his hand through his hair, and glancing at the bow that hung near the bookshelves.

"Not a sword?"

"I've decided the pen is mightier."

Ok, what's next? thought Chloe. She wanted to ask him about his work, but didn't think it'd be appropriate within the first five minutes of their first meeting. Perhaps she'd wait another five. What else could she talk about? Hmm…best friend is being an ass? Not a good subject, he didn't need to hear about her problems.

Ethan broke the momentary silence. "If I may I ask…why don't you have any articles about Superman on that wall? Isn't he the biggest mystery of them all?"

He is, thought Chloe, but not only for the reasons you think. But one didn't put her best friend on her 'Wall of Weird'.

"Oh, I've got _plenty _of material about Superman," she assured him, going to the shelves above her desk.

"Would you like to see it?" she asked, and immediately regretted. She sounded like a kid wanting to show off her stamp collection. Not that she ever had one. Ethan, however, didn't seem bothered.

"I'll be happy to," he said, and sounded as if he meant that.

"Those folders," Chloe pointed out, "contain the Superman material I've collected." And embarrassed Clark with, but she didn't mention _that_.

"That's a big collection," he said.

"All the girls in my dorm know I'm always looking for Superman articles," explain Chloe, "they keep whatever stories they read, and I collect them every week or so. I also have an elephant-sized file of web articles."

Ethan nodded, "I saw him only once," he said, "but I understand that in Metropolis he's an everyday phenomenon."

Especially for me, thought Chloe.

"When did you see him?" She was definitely curious. Like Ethan said, Clark didn't usually leave Metropolis. There wasn't any lack of bad guys there, after all.

"A bombing in a mosque in Basra," Ethan said. His eyes got a strange look, and he quickly changed the subject. "Can I have a look at them?"

In reply, Chloe pulled out the first folder. "those are the very first articles. He just appeared, and everybody went nuts…"

_"…two hours later, after we went through half the articles, we both remembered we were hungry and caffeine-deprived. Ethan suggested dinner, I accepted. An almost mundane beginning…"_

**Chloe Sullivan, Personal Diaries, Unpublished.**

Author's note:

Another chapter! I know, I know, it takes me a long time to finish them, but I want to get them _right_. Speaking of right, my beta readers keep saving me from ridiculous mistakes, and provide lots of encouragement. So thanks, as usual, to **_Last Scorpion_** and **_The Die Hard._**

References: Konrad Lorenz was a Biologist. He showed the principle of imprinting on geese. I think the Clark-Lana connection is quite obvious.

LoisBujold is a real, honest-to-God writer. She's recommended.

Historical nut - that's a reference to a filk also want to warn you – this story isn't about plot, unfortunately – I'm not very good with those. It's about character exploration. Please don't expect too many twists and turns.

Reviews: very necessary, especially about Ethan.


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